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REVISED EDITION WITH HELPS TO STUDY 

SHAKSPERE'S 

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 



EDITED BY 

ROBERT MORSS LOVETT 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH, THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO 



SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 
CHICAGO NEW YORK 



J.-^* 






COPYRIGHT, 1900, 1919, BY 
SOOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 



ROBERT O. LAW COMPANY 

EDITION BOOK MANUFACTURERS 
CHICAGO. U.S.A. 



m I? 1919 

ICLA.512657 



PREFACE. 

The editorial contributions to the present edition 
of The Merchant of Venice are of two kinds. In 
the Introduction the editor has tried to treat the 
play somewhat broadly, and to make the various 
sections illustrative of methods of study to be pur^ 
sued also in other plays. Thus the accounts of the 
date and sources of the play are given at a length 
which without this explanation might seem excess 
ive. In the same way certain typical peculiarities 
of Shakspere's verse and language have been treated 
in the Introduction, in the hope that the student, 
by seeing the illustrations grouped together and by 
referring to them from the text, will come torecog- 
nize the forms in his further reading of the author. 
On the contrary, in the notes and the glossary, 
which are to be used in direct connection with the 
text, the editor has striven to keep strictly within 
the limits of information needed for the under- 
standing of the words of the play, in order that 
the interruption of the normal process of reading 
may be as slight as possible. The aim has been to 
suggest to the student that his chief object should 
be to read the text understandingly, not to master 
A certain quantity of Elizabethan lore. In the 

V 



vi PREFACE. 

division of matter between notes and glossary such 
explanations as refer simply to the particular pas- 
sages under consideration have been placed in the 
notes, while synonyms for words of ordinary occur- 
rence in Shakspere are given in the glossary. By 
the nse of other editions, especially Dr. Furness's 
Variorum^ the teacher will be able to supplement 
the notes, but it is suggested that such comment 
be directed toward the explanation of constructions 
and uses of language common in Shakspere and 
his contemporaries, rather than toward the exam- 
ination of passages, possibly corrupt, to which the 
ingenuity of editors has given a factitious impor- 
tance. 

There are two methods of study to which Shaks* 
pere's plays are subjected. One consists in the 
examination and the interpretation of the text. 
In the other the play is considered as a master- 
piece of the dramatic form, and is examined by 
scenes to determine the place of each in the 
advancement of the plot, the development of 
character, and the enforcement of the main theme. 
Both theories are useful. Neither by itself is 
sufficient; either may be pressed too far. It 
should not be forgotten that Shakspere wrote his 
play to give pleasure, that our object in reading it 
IS to enjoy it, and that it is according as our study 
yields additional enjoyment that it is successful. 
It is, however, perfectly certain, inasmuch as 
poetry is an art which appeals to the intellect as 



rHEFACE wH 

well as to the emotions, that the play will be the 
more enjoyed the more ifc is understood. Thus, in 
handling the play in class, enough questions must 
be asked upon the interpretation of the text tc 
make sure that the student understands the word 
or phrase, and can refer it for comparison to a 
passage containing the same word or construction, 
if one has occurred earlier in the play. Some 
Buggestions toward the use of the second method 
have been given in the Introduction. It may be 
well to repeat here, however, the caution there 
given against trying to find in Shakspere an 
artist or a moral teacher who transcended even 
the ideals of art and morality of his time. 

For further study the student will find useful 
the editions of this play by Messrs. Clark and 
"Wright (Clarendon Press), and Professor Gam- 
mere (Longman's English Classics). The Vari- 
oriim, edited by Dr. Furness, contains the most 
valuable notes of various commentators, as well as 
extracts from the best criticism on the play. The 
general information in regard to Shakspere and his 
works which every one should possess can be ob- 
tained from Dowden's Primer of Shakspere, 
Additional works are Sidney Lee's Life of William 
Shakspere, Barrett Wendell's William Shakspere, 
Dowden's Shakspere: His Mind and Art, as well as 
the works of Mr. Fleay. For the general period see 
A. W. Ward's History of English Dramatic 
Literature, Symonds's Shakspere^s Predecessors^ 



viii PRE^FACE. 

Boas's Sliahspere and His Predecessors. For 
Shakspere's language and grammar, consulfc 
Schmidt's Shahespeare Lexicon, and E. A. 
A-bbott's Shakespearian Grammar, 



COXTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface v 

Intkodtjction 

I. Shakspere and his Plays 3 

II. The Merchant of Tenice IS 

III. Shakspere's Style 33 

Text . 43 

Notes 156 

Glossary . . . . . . . . 16S 

Appendix 

Helps to Study 173 

Chronological Table ........ 179 



INTEODUCTIOK 

I. SHAKSPERE AKD HI3 PLAYS. 
I. LIFE. 

William Shakspere was born of peasant stock. 
His father, John Shakspere, was connected with 
a family of small land-holders in Warwickshire, 
which has been traced back to the fourteenth cen- 
tury. This John Shakspere was a successful trader 
in Stratford-on-Avon, where he dealt in various 
kinds of produce, among them meat, a fact which 
has given rise to the legendary connection of the 
poet Shakspere with the butcher's trade. John 
Shakspere was for many years a man of substance, 
and enjoyed the respect of his neighbors; he 
served as burgess of the town, as constable, as 
chamberlain of the borough, and finally as high 
bailiff or mayor. In 1557 he married Mary Arden, 
the daughter of a rich farmer of Wilmcote. Of 
this marriage v^ere born two girls, who died in, 
infancy; then, in April, 1564, a son, William, and 
following him several more children. Meanwhile 
John Shakspere had fallen into financial difficult 
ties. By 1578 he had been forced to mortgage 
most of his own and his wife's property, and 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

in 1586 it was reported that lie had no available 
goods on which his various creditors might levy. 
The early experiences of William Shakspere's life 
may, then, be said to connect themselves with the 
gradual falling away of his family from a place of 
ease and honor in the community to one of difficulty. 

Shakspere received his elementary education, 
including a fair amount of Latin, at the StratforJ 
Grammar School. About the age of thirteeu, 
however, he was withdrawn from school to assist 
his father in his declining business. Five years 
later he added to the complications of his life by 
marrying Anne Hathaway, probably the daughter 
of a farmer of Shottery who had recently died. 
There is reason for suspecting that this marriage 
was forcbd on Shakspere by the bride's family as a 
measure of reparation. Anne was eight years older 
than her husband. She bore him three children, 
Susanna, Hamnet, and Judith, the last being 
twins born in 1585. After this Shakspere had no 
more children, and it is conjectured that he left 
Stratford in the same year, possibly in consequence 
of difficulties with a gentleman of the neighbor- 
hood, Sir Thomas Lucy, on whose estate he is tra- 
ditionally said to have poached. At all events, 
within the next few years Shakspere abandoned 
Stratford for London. 

Here Shakspere found his first employment, so 
far as we know, in the company of actors patron- 
ized by the Earl of Leicester, and after his death 



SHAKSPERE AND HIS PLAYS. 5 

successively by Lord Strange, and Lord Hnnsdon, 
who afterwards became the Lord Chamberlain. 
Shakspere was at first, perhaps, a servant, then an 
actor, then an adapter of the plays of others, and 
finally a dramatist and poet on his ov\^n acconnt. 
That he early attracted notice in his profession of 
player and dramatic adapter is proved by an angry 
reference to him in a pamphlet by Eobert Greene, 
called a Groatsworth of Wit Bought ivith a Million 
of Rej^entance. "There is," wrote Greene, ''an 
upstart Crow beautified with our feathers, that 
with his tygers heart wrapt in a ijlayers hide, sap- 
poses he is as well able to bum bast out a blanke 
verse as the best of you; and being an absolL^o 
Johannes factotum^ is in his owne conceit the only 
Shake-scene in a country." This was published 
in 1592, several years after Shakspere's arrival in 
London. The "tygers heart wrapt in a players 
hide" is a parody of a line in the the third part of 
Henry VI^ which is one of the plays which Shaks- 
pere may have rewritten. But although Shakspere 
was in some sort a dramatist by 1592, he continued 
to act for years after. He is set down in 1598 as 
one of the company which played Ben Jonson's 
Every Man in His Humour, and as late as 1603 he 
is mentioned with Eichard Burbage as a member 
of the company which enjoyed the special favor of 
James I. 

^ "Oh, tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide." L, 
iy..l37. 



6 iNTKODUCTiOi-T. 

As actor and playwright Shakspere secured the 
means of rehabilitating his family. According to 
Mr. Sidney Lee ^ his salary was probably not far 
from £100 'per annum^ and in addition, his plays, of 
which he produced, on an average, two a year, 
brought him in perhaps £10 apiece before 1599, 
and more later. In 1599 he became a share- 
holder in a new theater, the Globe, which proved 
extremely profitable. With these resources Shak- 
spere began to build up a landed estate for him- 
self in his native town. In 1597 he bought 
New Place, a large house in Stratford; and in 
1602 he added to this a hundred acres of land 
near the town. Other investments show him to 
have been a man of increasing substance and 
consequence in the county. Moreover, if his plays 
brought him little money, they gave him repu- 
tation and consideration in London, both with 
the literary men of his day and with those of 
higher rank. In 1593 he dedicated his first pub- 
lished work, the poem Venus and Adonis, to 
Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, and a 
year later The Rape of Lucrece to the same noble- 
man, in terms which leave no doubt as to the cor- 
diality which existed between them. If, as many 
suppose, the sonnets are to be regarded as dedicated 
to William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, we have 
another evidence of Shakspere's intimacy with the 
great. In any case, it is easy to suppose that the 

^ A Life of WllliaDi Shakespeare. 



SHAKSPERE AND HIS PLAYS. 7 

drama in which Shakspere took most interest was 
that of the recovery, by his efforts, of the position 
which his family had lost in his boyhood. 

In this work of recovery Shakspere must have 
suffered a painful discouragement from the death 
of his son Hamnet in 1596, just when his plans 
for re-establishing his family at Stratford were 
approaching maturity. The interest of the rest 
of his life is in his authorship of the plays which 
bear his name, of which an account is given later. 
In 1611 the dramatist retired from active life, 
and except for an occasional visit to London, lived 
at New Place, Stratford, where, on April 23, 1616, 
he died. 

II. THE ENGLISH DRAMA. 

"When Shakspere came up from Stratford to 
London he fc and demanding expression the inter- 
ests, ideals, and passions which were the accom- 
paniment of the intellectual and moral expansion 
of the English Renaissance ; and he found existing 
a literary form beyond others suited to be the 
vehicle of such expression. The modern drama 
began its course in the obscurity of the Middle 
Age. Its origin was due chiefly to the desire of 
the church to educate the people into its myster- 
ies by giving to the latter concrete representation. 
The ceremony of the mass with its symbolism is a 
result of the dramatic impulse. It became the 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

custom for the clergy to give at Christmas and 
Easter actual representations of the scene about 
the manger at Bethlehem and of the resurrection 
of Jesus, the tableau being accompanied by appro- 
priate lyrical passages in which the audience took 
part. Gradually these representations became 
more elaborate; a certain amount of stage setting 
was used, and the characters were provided with 
speeches drawn from the Gospel narrative. More- 
over, to the sacred representations which were 
founded upon the Gospels, and are known as Mys- 
teries, were added other plays, dealing with events 
in the Old Testament or in the lives of various 
saints. These were called Miracle Plays. A third 
form of drama was the Morality, in which the 
ethical side of Christianity was expressed, usually 
by allegorical representation of the life of a man 
struggling against temptation. 

At first such sacred plays were entirely in the 
hands of the clergy. The substitution of the ver- 
nacular for Latin, the transfer of the stage, as it 
became more elaborate, from the church itself to 
the open air, and finally the attempt to make the 
plays popular by developing their realistic and 
comic possibilities, caused the drama to fail more 
and more into the hands of lay actors. The 
guilds, or associations of mediaeval trades, each of 
which had its patron saint, took up the duty of 
presenting on public holidays the Mysteries or 
Miracle Plays for Avbich each was specially fitted. 



SHAKSPERE AND HIS PLAYS. 9 

For example, the shipwrights chose the story of 
Noah, in which the building of the ark gave them 
an opportunity to show their skill. In the larger 
towns the plays were repeated several times at 
different points, and for convenience the stage was 
set on wheels and drawn through the streets. In 
this way the several guilds followed one another, 
presenting in successive plays the chief events of 
Bible history in chronological order to many 
groups of spectators. Among the collections of 
such plays which remain may be mentioned the 
York, Coventry, and Chester Plays, named from 
the cities where they were acted. 

These plays are in many cases more than mere 
adaptations of the Biblical narrative. In some 
instances they contain lyrical passages of genuine 
poetry. There is in many an appeal to the homely 
interests of the audience through the picturing of 
the realism of a life which all knew. Finally, 
the comic parts, such as that of Herod, or of the 
Devil, were elaborated. Naturally, such develop- 
ments made it necessary that the conduct of the 
play, should be given to men who possessed in voice, 
appearance, and skill in acting, some aptitude for 
stage work. Thus there grew up, perhaps at first 
under the patronage of the guilds, a class of pro- 
fessional actors. These, again, began to travel 
about the country in companies, giving plays on 
their : account in the courtyards of castles or 
inns. For their use the long Moralities, such as 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

Mveryman^ and The Castle of Perseverance, were 
replaced by short pieces called Interludes, consist- 
ing of a few episodes or dialogue passages with a 
anoral lesson attached. These Interludes became 
s, favorite amusement of the court of Henry VII,, 
and Henry VIII., where they were presented some- 
times by professional actors, sometimes by gentle- 
men of the court. 

In all this time the English drama was being 
fitted to become an instrument of national expres- 
sion. The need of such an instrument came with 
the Renaissance. The discoveries made in Italy 
in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries of the 
works of ancient authors, and the revived interest 
in the culture of Greece and Rome, were trans- 
mitted to England in the early sixteenth century. 
This intellectual revival was followed by the spir- 
itual and moral awakening of the Reformation. 
The discovery of new lands beyond the Atlantic, 
and the stirring of the spirit of exploration and 
adventure, enlarged the possibilities of life and of 
imagination. All these forces tended intellectually 
toward emancipating and developing the individ- 
ual, and practically toward giving the individual 
an opportunity to realize and express himself in 
action. Thus the Renaissance in England was 
distinguished by the appearance of a group of bril- 
liant characters. And closely following the Re- 
naissance came the struggle with Spai-_, ,,hich 
united many of these men in action, and connected 



SHAKSPERE AND HIS PLAYS. 11 

all to a greater or less degree with the national 
consciousness of England. 

This growing consciousness, the interest in 
human nature and in character, the curiosity in 
regard to new countries and foreign countries 
and literatures, — all these in which the conscious 
part of the nation shared made the drama the 
natural form of literary expression for England in 
the sixteenth century. The drama unfolds charac- 
ter in action and movement, and for the moment 
action and movement were the chief characteristics 
of English life. The drama gives concrete repre- 
sentations of scenes and manners; and through 
such concrete representations the people of that 
day had learned to gain the information which we 
seek in novels and newspapers. Finally, the 
drama appeals to many men simultaneously, to an 
audience as to one. The quickened intellectual 
life of the day, while it had led a few into personal 
greatness, had not so differentiated the mass of 
men that they could not think and see alike. They 
were, moreover, accustomed to move in masses, to 
rely on each other for direction. Thus it seems 
that the two requisites of dramatic success — great 
subjects and a fit audience — existed in the England 
into which Shakspere was born. 

Shakspere's vocation for the drama was doubt- 
less determined by the demands of the time. By 
the middle of the sixteenth century the Miracle 
Play and the Morality had given place to the drama 



22 INTRODUCTION. 

proper". The study of tlie Latin comedies of Plau- 
tiis had taught Englishmen the technical require- 
ments of a play. Ralph Roister Doister, written 
before 1552, by Nicholas Udall, headmaster of 
Eton, for performance by the boys of that 
school, is a Latin comedy in English ; and Gammer 
Gurtoii's Needle^ printed 1575, though more orig- 
inal, shows the influence of the classical model. 
About the same time appeared Gorloduc^ by 
Norton and Sackville, an attempt to transfer the 
principles and technique of Koman tragedy to Eng- 
land. These plays and others like them were acted 
at schools and at the universities, but they never 
became popular. The same may be said of the 
allegorical plays of John Lyly [The Woman in the 
Moon^ Endimio7i^ Campaspe^ etc.), which were 
written between 1579 and 1590, to be acted before 
the Queen by the choristers of St. Paul's and the 
Chapel Eoyal. 

Meanwhile, the popular drama was working itself 
out on bolder lines. The plays intended for the 
court, like those of Lyly, were largely classical 
stories thrown into dramatic* form, with swift, pleas- 
ant dialogue, beneath which lurked satiric or alle- 
gorical reference to events of the time. The 
popular taste demanded stronger meat — stories of 
tragical import presented, as in Kyd's Spanish 
Tragedy (1587), with a passion and violence which 
set classical decorum at defiance, or comedies of 
rude, healthful realism. 



SHAKSPERE AND HIS PLAYS. 13 

Moreover, the popular drama was providing itself 
with a recognized home, and becoming an institu- 
tion. After the middle of the century the strolling 
bands of actors united into larger companies, each 
taking the name of some noble or official of state 
by whom it was licensed. Thus we hear of Lord 
Strange's men, the company which Shakspere first 
joined, the Admiral's men, the Earl of Pem- 
broke's, the Queen's, etc. In 1576 the first play- 
house in London, the Theatre, was built by James 
Burbage; the Curtain was erected the same year; 
and others, the Eose, the Swan, and Blackfriars 
followed before the end of the century. In 1599 
the Theatre was torn down and the Globe, in 
which Shakspere had an interest, was built in its 
place. On the boards of these theatres were at 
least two actors of first-rate ability, — Edward 
Alleyn, of the Admiral's Men, and Eichard Bur- 
bage, to whose company Shakespere long belonged, 
and for whom he wrote his best parts. 

A London theatre in the sixteenth century took 
its form apparently from the inn courtyard where 
the actors were accustomed to play. A covered 
gallery partly enclosed a space, square or circular, 
open to the sky. This constituted the pit, where 
any one could enter and stand for a penny. The 
gallery was for the rich, who could afford to pay a 
shilling or a half crown for a chair. Across one 
€nd of the pit was the stage, covered, and pro- 
vided with a balcony for scenes in which the actors 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

should be on different levels. The stage fur- 
niture was severely simple. A change of scene 
required little preparation except the exhibition of 
a placaird giving the name of the place which the 
imagination of the spectators must call up. This 
absence of s^ceaery left the stage free for broad 
effects of individual acting, or great ensemble scenes 
involving many persons, in which the Elizabethan 
dramatists were wont to indulge themselves. It is 
true, the stage was encroached upon \by the audi- 
ence, or a favored jDart of it, and this fact serves to 
emphasize the close connection between all con- 
cerned in the presentation of an Elizabethan 
drama. The playwright, as in Shakspere's case, 
was frequently one of the actors ; and the actors in 
their performance were so close to their most crit- 
ical hearers that they must have felt and responded 
to the slightest quiver of sympathy or disgust. 
Inasmuch as plays were commonly given in the 
afternoon, the audience was composed of the less 
serious part of the population — the gallants, the 
idlers, the persons of irregular occupation. Women 
of good character never appeared except masked. 
To supply the plays many playwrights were kept 
busy inventing, altering, adapting. In the year 
1587, possibly soon after Shakspere's arrival in 
London, appeared Christopher Marlowe's Tarnber- 
laine the Greats which fixed blank verse as the 
regular poetic form of English tragedy. Marlowe 
followed this first notable play by a second part, 



^HAKSPERE AND HIS PLAYS. 15 

then by Dr. FausUis, The Jew of Malta, and a 
historical play, Edivard II. Attracted by his suc- 
cess, two other literary men, Robert Greene, and 
George Peele, who like Marlowe had been trained 
at the universities, turned their attention to tho 
drama. Peele had written probably as early as 
1581 a pastoral comedy in rhyme, called The 
Arraignme7it of Paris, which was acted before the 
Queen. He added to this The^ Battle of Alcazar, 
David and Bethsahe, and Edward /., in blank 
verse. Greene imitated Marlowe in his Aljjhon- 
sus. King of Arragon (1589), and in his later 
plays, James IV., Friar Bacon and Friar Bun- 
gay, and Orlando Furioso, This earlier group of 
playwrights disappeared before Shakspere's pre- 
eminence as a dramatist became apparent. Greene 
died in 1592, Marlowe in 1593, and Peele some 
time before 1598. 



JII. SHAKSPERE AS A DRAMATIST. 

Shakspere served his apprenticeship as an adapter 
of already existing plays. Thus his early work ia 
distinguished by no sharp line of demarkation from 
that of his contemporaries ; rather, it tends to lose 
itself in the mass of the plays of the period. 

His earliest plays, Titus Androjiicus and the 
three parts of Henry VI., are almost certainly the 
result of collaboration or revision, and commen- 
tators are still undecided which portions should be 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

attributed to Shakspere, and to whom to assign the 
non - Shaksperean parts, whether to MarloWe, 
Greene, Kyd, or some unknown playwright. The 
earliest plays which belong properly to Shakspere 
are the comedies Lovers Labour^ s Lost, The Com- 
edy of Errors, and Two Gentlemen of Verona. 
The latter is interesting as Shakspere's earliest 
experiment in romantic comedy, an attempt which 
he bettered in The Merchant of Venice. These 
plays, with A 3iiclsummer Nighfs Dream, Richard 
III., in which the influence if not the hand of Mar- 
lowe is discernible, and perhaps Romeo and Juliet, 
Shakspere's earliest tragedy, make up the plays of 
his early period, the time when he was learning his 
world and studying the mysteries of the dramatic 
form. The dates of these plays are generally 
uncertain, but, with some doubt as to Romeo and 
Juliet, they may be placed before 1595. 

To what is called Shakspere's early middle period 
belong his later attempts at handling English his- 
tory, Richard II., King John, Henry IV., and 
Henry V. In this time were written the come- 
dies The Merchant of Venice, Much Ado ahout 
Nothing, As. You, Like It, Ttvelfth Night, The 
Merry Wives of Windsor, and probably The Tam- 
ing of the Shreiv. These may all be assigned to 
the years just preceding the close of the century. 
To the later middle period belong AlVs Well That 
Ends Well, Measure for Measure, and Troilus 
mid Cressida, the more serious and bitter com- 



SHAKSPERE AND HIS PLAYS. 1? 

edies; as well as the great series of tragedies, 
Julius Cmsar^ Hamlet^ Othello , Lear^ Macbeth^ 
Antony and Cleoiiatra^ and Coriolanus. The later 
period, beginning about 1608, includes the plays, 
Pericles^ Cymheline^ The Tempest, and The Win- 
ter'' s Tale^ in which the biting cynicism aii<i 
sombre tragedy of the later middle period give way 
to a picture of life touched with a serene philos- 
ophy and a happy romanticism. 

Shakspere's plays were written directly for the 
stage, and as the pecuniary profit of a play came 
chieliy from the acting royalty, the author was 
by no means desirous to publish. Such of the 
plays as were published in his lifetime appeared 
in small quarto editions, printed from actors' 
Tersions often fraudulently obtained, or even from 
notes taken in the theatre as the actors spoke. No 
authorized edition appeared until 1623, seven 
years after his death, when the first folio was 
published by two of Shakspere's fellow actors 
and friends — John Heminge and Henry Condell. 
This edition is usually regarded as settling the 
canon of the plays, though in several which it con- 
tains the extent of Shakspere's authorship is doubt- 
ful, and one play, Pericles, generally accepted as 
his, was not included in any folio until 1663. The 
text of the folio is corrupt, and has been largely 
modified by later commentators, partly upon the 
authority of the quarto editions, partly upon con- 
jecture. The text of the first folio is reproduced 



18 INTRODUCTION. 

exactly in Dr. Fnrness's Variorum Shakespeare. 
The text usually accepted at the present time as 
embodying the most necessary and probable 
improvements upon the folio is that of the Globe 
or the Cambridge edition, published by Macmillan 
and Company. 



II. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
J. DATE. 

There are many reasons for doubt as to the exact 
dates at which Shakspere's plays were written. 
The fact that several of them were founded on 
earlier plays bearing similar names, that some were 
revised or rewritten by Shakspere himself, that all 
were prepared for the stage, not for publication, 
are a few of these reasons. Certain tests have been 
laid down for the determination of the dates of 
single plays, among which are: 

I. Exter7ial tests. (1) The date of publication 
or of first performance gives a date before which 
the play must have been written. (2) The men- 
tion of a play by name, or an unmistakable allusion 
to it in a document of known date, fixes similarly 
a limit to the uncertainty. 

II. Internal tests. (1) Allusions in the play 
itself to historical events, or references to other 
works of known date, may serve to fix the 
4ate. (2) Evidences of style, — such as the decrease 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 19 

in the use of rhyme, the increase in the number of 
extra syllables before the csesura or at the end of 
the line, the increase in the number of lines ending 
with a light or weak word (auxiliaries or preposi- 
tions), the increase in the number of "unstopped" 
lines, i. e., lines in which the sentence or clause 
does not end with the line, — serve to mark roughly 
the later from the earlier plays. 

In the case of The Merchant of Venice we are 
able to apply all these tests. (1) The play was 
entered on the Stationers' Eegister in 1598, by a 
piratical publisher named Eoberts, and actually 
published in two forms in 1600. (2) In a pam- 
phlet called Palladis Tamia, by Francis Meres, 
published in 1598, Shakspere is mentioned as the 
greatest dramatist of his time, and among his 
works is given The Merchant of Veiiice. Clearly, 
1598 is the latest possible date at which the play 
could have been written. 

Other applications of the external tests have been 
made. Tor example, it is known that in August, 
1594, a "Venesyon Comodey" was produced at the 
Rose Theatre, but in spite of the fact that there 
is reason to suppose that at this time Shakspere's 
company was united with the Admiral's Men, who 
regularly played at the Rose, the evidence is not 
sufficient to justify us in supposing that the 
**Yenesyon Comodey" and The Merchant of Ven- 
ice were the same. 

Coming to the internal tests, we find them by no 



30 INTRODUCTION. 

means conclusive. In 1594 attention was directed 
to the Jews in England bj the trial and execution 
of a certain Roderigo Lopez, a Jewish physician 
who had plotted to poison th<. Queen. This event 
led to popular feeling against the Jews which was 
used by theatrical managers of the day. Marlowe's 
Jew of Malta was given twenty times in that year. 
It is possible that Shakspere was tempted by this 
popular feeling to draw Shylock, in which case 
the *'Venesyon Oomodey" mentioned above may 
have been his. On the other hand, the speech of 
Shylock in Act IV is somewhat like a passage in a 
book of declamations called The Orator^ by A. Sil- 
vayns, which was translated from the French in 
1596. Although the declamation in question is 
supposed to be spoken by *'a Jew who would for 
his debt have a pound of flesh of a Christian," yet 
the points of resemblance are not absolutely con- 
clusive. As for other internal tests, the amount of 
prose would refer the play to Shakspere's early 
middle period, as would the comparative absence of 
rhyme. The other verse tests, on the whole, cor- 
roborate this view. 

On the whole, then, it can be said with certainty 
only that the play was written before 1598. The 
internal evidence (especially the admirable con- 
struction of the play) tends to bring down the 
conjectural date of composition to as late a date as 
possible. The actual uncertainty, however, is 
shown by the guesses of critics. Malone drives 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 21 

1594. Clark and Wright hold that the "Venesyon 
Comodey"of that year is Shakspere's, but think it 
was revised before 1598. Boas gives 1595, as does 
Delius. Keay gives 1596 or 1597, and Dowden, 
1596. 

II, THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT. 

Whether the "Venesyon Comodey" was Shaks-- 
pere's or not, there is little doubt that there existed 
an early play of which Shakspere's comedy is a 
revision. In 1579 Stephen Gosson, in his attack 
on the stage called The ScJiooIe of Abuse, men- 
tioned a play called ^^ The Jeiue, showne at the Bull, 
representing tho greedinesse of worldly chusers 
and the bloody mindes of usurers." It is scarcely 
possible that this exact description should not refer 
to a play which combined, as does The Merchant 
of Venice, the two stories of the caskets and the 
bond. 

The story of the bond is an old one, appearing 
in varying forms in the Gesta Eomanorum, the 
Cursor Mu7idi, and other medieval collections of 
tales. Similar narratives have been found in Per- 
sian. Its final form as a story was given it by an 
Italian, Giovanni Fiorentino, who used it as one of 
a collection under the title II Pecorone. In this 
form the story runs somewhat as follows : 

A merchant of Florence named Bindo, dying, 
left his property to his two elder sons, and sent the 
youngest, Giannetto, to the latter 's godfather, 



3S INTRODUCTION. 

Ansaldo, a rich merchant of Venice. Giannetto was 
thereupon adopted by Ansaldo, who gave him 
whatever he wished. When some of Giannetto's 
friends were about to make the voyage to Alexan- 
dria, Ansaldo allowed his godson to accompany 
them, and gave him a ship well provided with mer- 
chandise. On the way to Alexandria it happened 
that Giannetto put in at a port called Belmonte, 
where lived the rich and beautiful widow of a pirate 
captain. Every man who landed at Belmonte 
was obliged to become her suiter, and if he 
failed to win her, lost all the property which he 
had brought with him. Giannetto accepted the 
conditions, paid his court to the lady, was lavishly 
entertained during the day, but at night, overcome 
with drugged wine, he went to sleep. Meanwhile, 
the lady gave orders to strip his ship of its goods, 
and when Giannetto awoke there was nothing left 
for him but to return to Venice. Once more 
Ansaldo furnished him with a ship and merchan- 
dise, and once more he attempted the lady of Bel- 
monte, but with no better result. The third time 
Ansaldo, in order to obtain money for the outfit, 
bound himself to a Jew for ten thousand ducats, 
promising his creditor a pound of flesh cut from 
any part of his body he pleased, if he should fail to 
pay it by St. John's Day. Giannetto sailed to Bel- 
monte, but, more prudent than before, merely pre- 
tended to drink the wine, and thus remained awake 
and wor the lady. He was living and ruling in 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 23 

Belnionte, forgetful of Ansaldo, when St. Jolin's 
Day arrived. Then Giannetfco remembered his 
go'ifather and hastened to Venice, to find him 
aK^out to pay the forfeit of the pound of flesh. 
Although Giannetto offered to pay ten times the 
amount of the debt, the Jew remained obdurate. 
Meanwhile, Giannetto's wife had disguised herself 
as a lawyer from Bologna, and now arrived at Ven-^ 
ice. To this pretended lawyer the case was 
referred. She first endeavored to make the ^ w 
content with the hundred thousand ducats offered, 
but failing this, bade him cut off the flesh, warning 
him, however, that should he take more or less 
than an exact pound, or should he shed one drop 
of blood, his life would be the penalty. On this 
the Jew offered to compromise for the hundred 
thousand ducats, or even for fifty thousand, but 
the lawyer refused. Giannetto and Ansaldo 
would have presented the money thus saved to 
the lawyer, bat the latter declined everything 
except a ring which Giannetto wore, and which 
lie had sworn to his lady never to part with. 
However, after some hesitation, he gave it to the 
lawyer. Giannetto returned to Belmonte, taking 
Ansaldo with him. His wife, who had returned 
before him, received them joyfully, but at once 
noticed the absence of the ring, which she charged 
Giannetto with having given to a woman. Giannetto 
protested that he had given it to the lawyer, an*3 
after a time the wife confessed her stratagem. 



24 INTRODUCTION 

II Pecorone, of which this story is the first tale 
told on the fourth day, was written in 1378, and 
published in 1565, In view of the immense popu* 
larity of Italian stories in England, we may suppose 
that it was soon translated into English, It is 
almost certain, however, that Shakspere had a 
reading knowledge of Italian, and he may have 
known the story in the original. There is also a 
ballad which narrates in some detail the story of 
the bond, and the discomfiture of the Jew, who is 
there called Gernntus. The ballad is of doubtful 
date, but probably earlier than the play. If Shaks- 
pere used it he still must have been indebted to 
some other source for the Belmonte part of the 
story. Finally, it is quite possible that Shakspere 
obtained the entire account, as well as the casket 
story, from an early play which he rewrote. 

The casket story in the plot, like the bond 
story, is an old one. Scholars have traced it in 
various mediaeval forms, once as part of a collection 
written in Greek about 800 A. D., called Barlaam 
and Josaphat; and again in one of Boccaccio's 
stories. Most nearly like Shakspere 's version, 
however, is a tale in the Gesta Romanorum^ a 
collection m^ade in the thirteenth century. An 
English translation of part of this collection was 
made about 1510, and reprinted six times between 
1577 and 1601. Thus it is quite likely that 
Shakspere ran across the story in question, which 
is briefly as follows: 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 25 

An emperor named Anselme, of Rome, arranged 
a marriage between his son and the daughter of the 
king of Amphiy. As the young lady was on her 
journey to Rome her ship was wrecked, and she 
was saved only by being swallowed by a whale. 
Released from this prison, she went on to Rome 
where the emperor subjected her to the following 
test: he brought forth three vessels, — the first of 
gold, but filled with dead bones; the second of 
silver, but filled with earth and worms ; the third 
of lead, but full of precious stones. The first bore 
the inscription, "Whoso chooseth me shall finde 
that he deserveth"; the second, "Whoso chooseth 
me shall finde that his nature desireth" ; the third, 
"Whoso chooseth me shall finde that God hath 
disposed to him." The lady chose the third, and 
thus showed herself worthy of the emperor's heir. 

The two stories given contain practically all the 
material of The Merchant of Venice^ except the 
JLauncelot Gobbo and the Lorenzo-Jessica episodes. 
The former may have been a direct inheritance from 
the earlier play. The latter may have been sug- 
gested to Shakspere by Marlowe's Jew of Malta, 
In this play, written in 1589 or 1590, Marlowe's 
hero, the Jew Barabas, has a daughter, Abigail, 
who is loved by two Christian knights. Barabas 
persuades her to encourage both, in order that they 
shall destroy each other. Abigail, in repentance, 
flees from her father, and takes refuge in a nun- 
i\8ry, where she dies. The situation is unlike that 



26 INTRODUCTION. 

in Shakspere's play, except in the mere facts that in 
both cases the Jew has a daughter who is loved by a 
Christian, and is ultimately lost to her father. It is 
almost impossible, however, to avoid the conclusion 
that in portraying Shylock's frenzy at the loss of 
Jessica, Shakspere had in mind Marlowe's earlier 
treatment of the same theme, e. g.: 

Mer, of Ven.f 11. , viii. — 

My daughter! my ducats! — O my daughter! 
Justice! the law! my ducats and my daughter! 

Jew of Malta, 11. y i.-^ 

Oh my girl. 

My gold, my fortune, my felicity. 

Oh, girl, oh, gold, oh, beauty, oh, my bliss. 

[Note. — An elaborate discussion of the date of the 
play and its sources is found in Dr. Furness's Variorum 
Merchant of Venice, pp. 277-331.] 



^ III, THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE DRAMA, 

The preceding discussion of the sources of The 
Merchant of Venice makes it clear where Shaks- 
pere could have obtained the material of his drama. 
In considering the use to which Shakspere put this 
material, it is useful to have in mind a few of tb*) 
characteristics of the dramatic form. A drama 
undertakes to tell a story by presenting a few epi- 
sodes or situations from which the entire course 
nt the action can be inferred. Inasmuch as these 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 27 

scenes are to be presented in rapid succession to an 
audience, not only must they be clear and easy to 
follow, but also, to be interesting, they must afford 
opportunity for striking, significant action on the 
part of the characters. Further, inasmuch as in a 
drama the author has no opportunity to tell his 
audience directly what he thinks of his characters, 
these latter must reveal their natures and purposes 
by their attitude toward one another, as manifested 
in speech or action. It is most important that 
every action in a drama be explained, prepared 
for, given a motive, by something which has 
already taken place, or some trait of character 
already indicated. Finally, a comedy follows 
roughly a certain order, in accordance with which 
the opening scenes give the "exposition." or 
set forth the relations of the characters to each 
other at the outset; the next follow a certain devel- 
opment of action called the ** complication" by 
which the hero is brought into difficulties, which 
finally reach a climax ; after which, as the result of 
another train of events, sometimes called the 
**counter-plot," the gordian knot is cut or untied 
by the *' catastrophe." The action of the play 
then seeks its close. 

In studying the play before us with a view 
to noting the details in which it corresponds to 
these principles of dramatic construction, there 
is some danger of overemphasis. In the uncer* 
tainfcy as to whether Shakspere used the stories (rf 



28 INTRODUCTION. 

Fiorentino and the Gesta Romanorum directly, or 
found them dramatized, we must remain in some 
doubt whether to attribute specific examples of 
dramatic skill to him or to an unknown predeces- 
sor. Moreover, it must be remembered that an 
Elizabethan audience did not demand that a play 
be strictly dramatic. It was to them a vehicle for 
the presentation of information, philosophy, and 
fun, somewhat like the novel of to-day. Hence, 
even in so symmetrical a play as The Merchant of 
Venice, we need not expect to find every scene or 
speech contributing to the advancement of the 
action or the development of the characters. 

Even with this concession, however, it is 
evident that The Merchant of Venice is a well- 
constructed play, one in which the technical 
requirements of the dramatic form are fulfilled. 
The first scene gives, by way of exposition, 
the relations between Antonio and Bassanio, 
and the latter 's plan for winning Portia. The 
second makes clear the conditions under which 
Portia must be wooed, and hints at her attitude 
toward Bassanio. The two stories of the bond 
and the caskets stand to each other as plot and 
counter- plot: the first brings Antonio into his 
extreme peril ; the second supplies the resolution of 
his difficulties through Portia. Both are set in 
motion by the same force, viz.^ Bassanio 's love of 
Portia ; both unite in the scene in which Portia 
saves Antonio. Shakspere's management of the 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 29 

Lorenzo- Jessica story and the use which he makes 
of it to supply employment for the minor charac- 
ters, to hint at the passage of the necessary three 
months, and to strengthen the motive of Shylock's 
ferocity, are to be noted. Another point in the 
construction of the play is the skillful preparation 
for the ring episode, which gives the final touch 
of comedy by transferring the action from Venice, 
with its tragedies partly or wholly accomplished, 
to Belmont, with its idylls, 

Where music and moonlight and feeling are one. 

The care with which the action of the play, par- 
ticularly in the bond story, is explained has been 
much praised. The forfeit of a pound of flesh, 
despite its frequent appearance in mediasval litera- 
ture, must have seemed on its face incredible to an 
Elizabethan audience. This difficulty Shakspere 
relieves by making the terms of the bond grow 
out of the verbal fence between Shylock and 
Antonio. Further, he anticipates the feeling of 
the audience by Bassanio's expressed horror at the 
proposal, which is disarmed by Shylock's pretence 
of a jest, and by Antonio's stubborn pride. Again, 
the catastrophe of the play is skillfully prepared. 
Shylock's insistence on his bond is given motive by 
the scenes with Tubal, and with Antonio's friends, 
in which he is goaded to desperate irritation. More- 
over, the hearer's skepticism as to the validity of 



8a INTRODUCTION. 

the bond in law is anticipated by Antonio's warn- 
ing (Act III, sc. 3), that the Duke cannot risk an 
apparent injustice toward a foreigner. In tiie 
great scene itself, Shakspere maintains the suspense 
of the audience by the futile attempts of the Duke, 
Bassanio, and Portia to disarm Shylock's savagery, 
and still more by Portia's declaration that the for- 
feit must be paid. (Note that the Duke nowhere 
commits himself to this statement, and talks onlv 
of adjourning the case.) Then, like a flash, the 
resolution comes, in the specious but dramatically 
effective quibble about the drop of blood; and 
before we have time to protest against the manifest 
absurdity of it, we behold it bettered by the ^egal 
and equitable decision that the bond involves an 
attempt on the life of a citizen, and thus subjects 
its maker to the severest penalty.^ 

But interesting as are these evidences of compe- 
tent stagecraft on the part of the author, it must 
not be forgotten that for us the chief interest of 
the play lies elsewhere. A drama, like a novel, 
lives, not by virtue of skillful mechanism, but 
by the representations of human life embodied in 
it. The Merchant of Venice owes comparatively 
little of its interest to-day to the symmetry of its 
plot; it owes much to Shylock and Portia. Prop- 
erly speaking, it is a comedy, not of intrigue or 

^ For fuller discussion of these points see Wendell's 
William Shakspere, and Moulton's Shakespeare as a 
Dramatic Artist. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 31 

plot, but of character ; the persons are. not mere 
puppets designed to carry out a series of situations, 
exciting or funny; on the contrary, the situations 
are employed to bring out in high relief the char- 
acters involved. Much has been written about 
these characters by way of explanation of the 
dramatist's attitude toward them, and of the 
lessons in human life which he intended them to 
teach. It has been questioned whether Shakspere 
did not give Shylock's justification of himself with 
sympathetic intention; whether he did not intend 
Antonio's misfortunes as a punishment for his 
overstepping the bounds of moderation, either in 
his previous prosperity or in his soberness of char- 
acter; whether he did not mean the fate of 
Morocco and Arragon as a rebuke to pride and 
hypocrisy ; whether he did not throw something 
like contempt into his portrayal of Lorenzo and 
Jessica. Such questions may well be abandoned 
at the outset as fruitless. It is of the nature of 
the drama that the author can not step outside of 
his characters and give an authoritative exposition 
of them. In a play the analysis must be hidden ; 
appearance, action, speech are the stuff in which 
the dramatist works. We must take his people, 
then, as highly individualized men and women, 
robust types of human nature, who will repay ob- 
servation and study, but whose secret, ethical or 
psychological, we can never discover, even if they 
have a secret. 



Sa INTRODUCTION. 



IV, THE TIME SCHEME, 

One special element in the construction of the 
drama has reference to the passing of the time of 
the action. It will be remembered that the bond 
is due in three months. "We have no precise means 
of calculating this period, but the journey of 
Lorenzo and Jessica through northern Italy, as 
narrated by Tubal, would seem to occupy about 
this time. The slow development of Antonio's 
losses from mere rumor to apparently ascertained 
fact helps us to realize this lapse of time, so that 
we are not troubled in the Venetian story by too 
rapid movement. But in the Belmont story there 
is an inconsistency. Bassanio left Venice speedily 
after the bond was signed, at all events before the 
*'long time" marked by Jessica's journey and the 
slow returns of Antonio's losses had begun to 
elapse. The distance to Belmont was short. 
He refused to be "stayed from his election," and 
he had no sooner chosen than he departed for Ven- 
ice. Clearly, we have here no three months. 

As a matter of fact, Shakspere often employed 
two distinct time schemes in the same play, length- 
ening one train of events to preserve a kind of con- 
sistency, and compressing another for dramatic 
force. It would have been fr^tal to dramatic pro- 
priety to admit any recognized delay in Bassanio'e 
wooing, or in his return to Venice after his success. 
Accordingly, Shakspere does not attempt to intro- 



SHAKSPERE'S STYLE. 33 

duce any, and obviously turns aside from the 
opportunity which Portia offers Bassanio of post- 
poning his choice. He merely scatters among his 
long - time Venetian scenes the earlier Belmont 
scenes, to indicate that time is passing equally in 
both places, and then boldly accepts the inconsist- 
ency, trusting that his hearers will feel the onward 
rush of the play at Belmont, and do their count- 
ing of the days at Venice. 



III. SHAKSPERE'S STYLE. 
1. METRE. 

A large part of the study of one of Shakspere's 
plays consists simply in the intelligent reading of 
it. Such reading depends in a measure on famil- 
iarity with the verse form which Shakspere uses, 
and with the variations which he permitted in it; 
in a measure on the ability to catch the meaning 
of words, constructions, and allusions not in com- 
mon use to-day. 

In Shakspere 's time the acting drama was a part 
of English literature and of English poetry. Just 
before his advent, moreover, the example of Mar- 
lowe had fixed blank verse of five feet to the line as 
the proper medium of the dramatist. Following 
him, Shakspere 's plays chronologically considered 
show a progressive disuse of rhyme in dialogue. 



34 INTRODUCTION. 

Shakspere's blank verse consists regularly of five 
iambic feet with a csesural pause after the third. 
For sake of variety, however, he frequently departs 
from this type, by shifting the pause, changing 
the accent of the foot, and introducing extra sylla- 
bles before the pause, or before the end of the line. 

Of doub I le due 1 ats stol' n | from me by j my 
daughter! — 11. , viii., 19. 

Lines of three feet or less occur, as well as Alexan- 
drines, or lines of six, e.g.^ II. vi. 2; II. vii. 5; 
II. ix, 24; III. ii. 111. Such variations are easily 
accepted in reading. A few irregularities, which 
must be noted in order to be recognized, are the 
following : 

Contraction. The number of syllables may be 
diminished by slurring one of two successive 
vowels, as: 

One half of me is yours, the other half yours. — III., 
ii, 16. 

(Pronounced th'' other.) 

When two vowels are separated by v or ?, this 
slurring is still possible, and in general these liquids 
readily coalesce with surrounding syllables. Other 
consonants, especially v or th^ are often slurred, as: 

How could he see to do them? Having made one. — 
III., ii., 124. 

(Pronounced haHng.) 

Again, a short vowel, especially when it separates 
two consonants of similar sound, or when it makes 



SHAKSPERE'S STYLE. 35 

part of the possessive, participialj. or superlative 
ending, may be slurred, as : 

And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.— V., i., 17. 
(Pronounced rivef.) 

Expansion. The number of syllables may be 
increased by prolonging or trilling the liquids r 
and Z, especially in monosyllables, as : 

I'll watch j as long J for you | then. Ap | proach 
—II., vi., 24 

And so 1 though yours J not yours. | Prove | it so. 
—III. ii., 20. 

Often two successive consonants may be separated 
in pronunciation by a vowel which has disappeared 
in the spelling, as : 

Be valued 'gainst your wife's commaudment. — IV,, 
i, 452. 

(Pronounced commandement.) 

Successive vowels which we regard as diphthongs 
are often separated, as : 

Your mind is tossing on the oee-an. — I., i., 8. 
I hate him for he is a Chrisfi-an. — I., iii., 43. 
To woo a maid in way of marri-age.— II., ix., 13. 

W and y before a vowel are often resolved into a 
syllable, as: ^ 

Twelve =s tw-elve. 



36 INTRODUCTION. 

Accent. It will be noticed tliat the accent of 
words varies somewhat from modern usage. Some- 
times the accent is thrown forward toward the 
end of the word, as : 

j_ 
And others of such vinegar aspect.— I., 1., 54 

j_ 
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine. — II., i., 8. 

f 
His rigorous course, but since he stands obcfiirate.— 

IV., i., 8. 

Sometimes the accent is thrown back toward the 
beginning, especially in a dissyllabic adjective 
which precedes a noun accented on the first 
syllable, as: 

To offend and judge are distinct offices. — II., ix., 61. 

To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. — II., 
vii., 51. 

In both these cases, however, it is possible to 
read the words with an undetermined or "hover- 
ing" accent. 



U, LANGUAGE. 

The difficulties in the way of an intelligent 
reading of Shakspere which connect themselves 
with his language may be attributed partly to 
differences bet,ween the English usage of his day 
dnd thaA of ours ; partly to the dramatic form ; and 



SHAKSPERE-S STYLE. S^i 

partly to his own nature and practice as a poet, 
First, it is to be recognized that many words used 
by the Elizabethans have disappeared, or have gone 
out of use in certain constructions, or have 
acquired or lost intensity and color. Mr. Abbott 
{Grammar, p. 12) notes that many words, espe- 
cially those of Latin derivatio , which we use met- 
aphorically, Shakspere used iterally, in a sense 
close to the original. Some examples of this are 
prevented, I., i., 61, ^iiortifyiiig, I., i., 82, and 
continent, II., ii., 130. Further cases are noted 
in the glossary. Here it is sufficient to point out 
that some perception of the meaning and value of 
a word to an Elizabethan, is necessary in order to 
enjoy Shakspere. Again, in constructions the 
Elizabethans ''preferred clearness to grammatical 
correctness, and brevity to both. Hence it was 
common to place words in the order in which they 
came uppermost to the mind without much regard 
to syntax.' This tendency was emphasized in 
Shakspere 's case by the fact that he wrote as a 
dramatist, putting words into the mouths of char- 
acters who availed themselves of the short-cuts of 
conversation as we do to-day. Moreover, the 
dramatist, especially if the play is rehearsed by 
him, can leave much of his meaning to be ex- 
pressed by the actor. In reading the text of Shaks- 
pere we must remember that we are in possession 
of but one of the means of communication of which 
a writer for the stage is more or less conscious as 



38 INTEODUCTION. 

he writes. Naturally, many passages seem to us 
incomplete. Finally, Shakspere wrote as a poet in 
an age of poetry — an age when men were really 
interested in verbal phenomena and when a writer 
could count upon enthusiastic appreciation for a 
brilliant figure of soeech or a pregnanu phrase. 
In reading him, ther> "ore, we must cultivate a cer- 
tain alertness of mine or else fail to lespond to the 
demands of some of ti e greatest and best English 
poetry. 

A few of the many cases of unfamiliar construc- 
tion are here classified for reference: 

I. Prepositions. Shakspere used prepositions 
with fewer restrictions as to idiom than we admit 
to-day. For example, ly is used for about in I., 
ii., 59, and for for in II., ix. , 26; from is used for 
aivay from in III., ii., 192; o/is used for from in 
IV., i., 422; for ivitli in II., iv., 24; for concern^ 
ing^ IV., i., 403; for for, II., v., 37; for on, L, 
!., 186. Prepositions are frequently omitted after 
verbs which to-day require them, as in I., i., 126; 
IL, i., 16; III., i., 58; III., L, 114; III., ii., 
29; v., 103; and also in relative clauses, e. g.: 

With that keen appetite that he sits down. — II., vi., 9, 

See also III., ii., 292. 

II. Pronouns. In Shakspere the possessive pro- 
nouns may act as antecedents for relatives, as : 

Or half her worthiness that 2:p>v<v +fce ring. — V. , i., 98. 



SHAKSPERE'S SIYLR 39 

A special use of me, tliee, him, etc., as ethical datives 
where we use /or me, on Ms account, etc., (or else 
omit the word entirely,) is to be noted, e, g.t 

Seal me there your single bond.— I., iii., 141. 
Give me your present to one Master Bassanio.-~n., 
!i., 118. 

We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. — II. , iv., 5. 

The relative pronoun is often omitted {e, g., I,, 
i., 176) where we should expect it, and sometimes 
inserted as a supplementary pronoun, as in IV., i., 
134. (See also I., iii., 133.). Who is used indefi- 
nitely with as, meaning "as one who." See *'A0 
who should say," I., i., 93; I., ii., 50. 

III. Verbs. Verbs which we use as intransitive 
are often transitive in Shakspere, as ^^fear'd the val* 
ianfc," II., i., 9, Shakspere's frequent use of imper- 
sonal verbs is to be noted, as in II., viiL, 33, 
*^You were best to tell Antonio," meaning *' It 
would be best for you," etc. The infinitive with 
to^ originally a gerund construction, was used 
indefinitely in Shakspere's time in cases where we 
should employ a preposition, by, for, at, etc., and 
the participle; e, g,^ "Is sad to think upon," I., 
i., 40, i. €., "at thinking of"; "Make moan to be 
abridged," I., i., 127; "To wind about my love," 
I., i., 155, i, e., "in winding," etc.; "Sham© 
myself to give you this," IV., i., 432. 

rV. Adjectives. Schmidt in his Shahespear§ 
Lexicon calls attention to adjectives which do the 



40 INTRODUCTION. 

office of the first part of compound nouns, limil^ 
ing the sphere of the substantive instead of adding 
a quality to it. Thus, "With mirth and laughter 
let old wrinkles come," I., i., 80, refers to "the 
wrinkles of age." Similarly, "melancholy bait,** 
L, i., 101, means "but of melancholy"; "civil 
doctor," v., i., 208, means *'a doctor of civil 
law." See also "virgin tribute,*' III., ii., 56. 
Sometimes there is a complete reversal of rela- 
tion between noun and adjective, as where "briet 
and plain convenieney," IV., i., 82, stands for 
''convenient brevity and plainness." Another 
use of the adjective to be noted is that of words 
in ed^ not as participles, but as adjectives which 
add an attribute or power to the substantive; 
e. g.^ "It is twice blest," IV., i., 187, means "It 
is twice endowed with the power of blessing"; and 
"the guiled shore to a most dangerous sea," III., 
ii., 97, means "a shore full of guile." Such 
adjectives in ed show the same reversal of relation 
with the substantive, as in III., iv., 52, where 
"with imagined speed" means "with the speed of 
imagination." Adjectives and adverbs are often 
used interchangeably, as "You grow exceeding 
strange," I., i., 67, for "exceedingly"; ^^richly 
left," I., i., 162, for "left rich." 

V. Ellipsis. "Elizabethan authors objected to 
scarcely any ellipsis provided the deficiency could 
be supplied from the context" (Abbott). One of 
the common instances where this observation 



SHAKSPERE'S STYLE. 41 

applies IS in the case of prefixes and snflSxes, par* 
ticularly of superlative and possessive endings, 
which often apply to other words than those to 
which they are joined, e, g.: 

To make me blest or cm-sed'st among men.— II., i» 46, 
The best-condl" io:ied a^d unwearied spirit. — III., 
a. 289. 
Until her husband and my lord's return. — III,, iv., 30. 

A word 13 frequently joined with two others, to 
only one of which it bears a natural relation, leav- 
ing an analogous word to be supplied, e. g,: 

She hath directed 
How I shall take her from her father's housej 
What gold and jewels she is furnished with. 

— IL iv., 80. 

where and told me must be supplied before what 
See also: 

You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
To wag their high tops, and to make no noise. 

—IV., i.. 75. 

where order them mnst be inserted before to mah$k 
Other cases of ellipsis are to be found in II., L^ 
82; IL, vi., 6; IIL,iii., 29; IV., i., 55, 56; IV.^ 
I., 134; v., i., 203. 

The nominative is often omitted, as x 

If they should speak, would almost damn those eara 

-I., i, 98. 



42 INTRODUCTION. 

The relative pronoun, as: 

I have a mind presages me such thrift. — I., i., 176. 

See also 11., v., 43. 

VI. The double negative. See I., i., 47; I, ii., 
29; I., iii., 163; III., iv., 11; IV., i., 59. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 



DEAMATIS PEESOI^iB. 



The Duke op Venice. 

no. ) 

suitors to PorticL 



The Prince of Morocco, ) 



The Prince of Arragon, ) 

Antonio, a merchant of Venice. 

Bassanio, his friend, suitor likewise to Portia, 

Salanio, \ 

^ ' >- friends to Antonio and Bassanio, 

Gratiano, j "^ 

Salerio, j 

Lorenzo, in love with Jessica. 

Shylock, a rich Jew. 

Tubal, a Jew, his friend. 

Launcelot Gobbo, the clown, servant to Shylock 

Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot, 

Leonardo, servant to Bassanio. 

Balthasar, 



Stephano, j serranfs to Portia. 

Portia, a rich heiress. 

Nerissa, her icaiting-maid. 
Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice 
Gaoler, Servants to Portia, and other Attendants 

Scene: Partly at Venice, and Partly at Belmont, 'tu 
seat of Portia, on the Continent. 



#> 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
ACT FIEST. 

SCEXE I. 

Venice, A street. 
Enter Antonio^ Salarino^ and 8alanio. 

Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; 
It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ; 
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, 
i I am to learn ; 

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me. 
That I have much ado to know myself. 

Solar, Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; 

There, where your argosies with portly sail, 
10 Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, 

Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 
Do overpeer the petty trafifickers, 
That curtsy to them, do them reverence^ 
As they fly by them with their woven wdngs. 
15 Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
The better part of my affections would 
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 

45 



^ THE MERCHANT [Act I. So. i 

Plucking the grass, to know where sits the 

wind, 
Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and 

roads; 
And every object, that might make me fear 
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt 
Would make me sad. 
Salar, My wind, cooling my broth. 

Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
What harm a wind too great at sea might do. 
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run. 
But I should think of shallows and of flats. 
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, 
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs 
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church 
And see the holy edifice of stone, 
And not bethink me straight of dangerous 

rocks. 
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side, 
Would scatter all her spices on the stream, 
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks. 
And, in a word, but even now worth this. 
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the 

thought 
To think on this, and shall I lack the 

thought. 
That such a thing bechanced would make m6 

sad? 
But tell not me ; I know, Antonio 
Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 



ACT I. So. i.] OF VENICE. . 47 

Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, 
Mj ventures are not in one bottom trusted, 
Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate 
Upon the fortune of this present year : 
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. 
Salar, Why, then you are in love. 
Ant. Fie, fie! 

Salar. Not in love neither? Then let us say you 
are sad. 
Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy 
For you to laugh and leap and say you are 

merry, 
Because you are not sad. Now, by two- 
headed Janus, 
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her 

time : 
Some that will evermore peep through their 

eyes. 
And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper ; 
And other of such vinegar aspect 
That they'll not show their teeth in way of 

smile, 
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 

E7iter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gvatiano. 

Satan, Here comes Bassanio, your most noble 
kinsman, 
Oratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well: 
We leave you now with better company. 



48 THE MEECHANT [Act I. Sc. i 

Solar. I would have stay'd till I had made you 6» 
merry, 
If worthier friends had not prevented me. 

Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
I take it, your own business calls on you, 
And you embrace the occasion to depart. 

Solar, Good morrow, my good lords. 65 

Boss. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? 
say, when? 
You grow exceeding strange : must it be so? 

Solar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. 
[Exeunt Solarino and Salanio. 

Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found 
Antonio, 
We two will leave you : but, at dinner-time, TO 
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet, 

Bass. I will not fail you. 

Gro. You look not well, Signior Antonio ; 

You have too much respect upon the world: 
They lose it that do buy it with much care: 75 
Believe me, you are marvellously changed. 

Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; 
A stage where every man must play a part, 
And mine a sad one. 

Gro. Let me play the fool : 

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 80 
And let^ my liver rather heat with wine 
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
Why should a man, whose blood is warm 
within, 



Act I. Sc. i.] OF VEI^^ICE. 49 

Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? 

Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the 

jaundice 
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio — 
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks, — 
There are a sort of men, whose visages 
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, 
And do a wilful stillness entertain. 
With purpose to be dress 'd in an opinion 
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, 
As who should say, 'I am Sir Oracle, 
And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!' 

my Antonio, I do know of these 
That therefore only are reputed wise 

For saying nothing; when, I am very sure. 
If they should speak, would almost damn 

those ears 
Which, hearing them, would call their broth- 
ers fools. 
I'll tell thee more of this another time : 
But fish not, with this melancholy bait, 
For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. 
Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile: 
I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 
Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time^. 

1 must be one of these same dumb wise men, 
For Gratiano never lets me speak. 

Gra. Well, keep me company but two years moCj 
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own 
tongue. 



50 THE MERCHANT [Act I. Sc. 1 

A7it, Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear, no 
Gra. Thanks, i' faith; for silence is only com- 
mendable 
In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not 
vendible. 

[Exeu7it Gratiano and Lorenzo. 

Ant. Is that any thing now? 
Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, 
more than any man in all Venice. His reasons lis 
are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels 
of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find 
them, and when you have them, they are not 
worth the search. 
Ant. Well, tell me now, what lady is the same 12c 
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, 
That you to day promised to tell me of? 
Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 
How much I have disabled mine estate. 
By something showing a more swelling port rfs 
Than my faint means would grant contin- 
uance : 
Nor do I now make moan to be abridged 
From such a noble rate ; but my chief care 
Is to come fairly off from the great debts 
Wherein my time, something too prodigal iso 
Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, 
I owe the most, in money and in love; 
And from your love I have a warranty 
To unburthen all my plots and purposes 
How to get clear of all the debts I owe is& 



Act I. Sc. i.] OF VENICE. 51 

Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; 
And if it stand, as you yourself still do. 
Within the eye of honour, be assured, 
My purse, my person, my extremest means 
140 Lie all unlock 'd to your occasions. 

Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one 
shaft, 
I shot his fellow of the self -same flight 
The self -same way with more advised watch, 
To find the other forth; and by adventuring 
both, 
145 I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof. 

Because what follows is pure innocence. 
I owe you much ; and, like a wilful youth. 
That which i owe is lost : but if you please 
To shoot another arrow that self way 
150 Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 

As I will watch the aim, or to find both 
Or bring your latter hazard back again, 
And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 
Ant. You know me well, and herein spend but 
time 
155 To wind about my love with circumstance; 

And out of doubt you do me now more wrong 
In making question of my uttermost. 
Than if you had made waste of all I have: 
Then do but say to me what I should do, 
leo That in your knowledge may by me be done, 

And I am prest unto it : therefore, speak. 
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left ; 



52 THE MERCHANT [Act I. Sc. i. 

And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, 
Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her 

eyes 
I did receive fair speechless messages : 165 

Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued 
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia: 
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
For the four winds blow in from every coast 
Renowned suitors : and her sunny locks iw 

Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; 
Which makes her seat of Belmont Coichos* 

strand, 
And many Jasons come in quest of her. 

my Antonio, had I but the means 

To hold a rival place with one of them, its 

1 have a mind presages me such thrift, 
That I should questionless be fortunate! 

Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea; 
Neither have I money nor commodity 
To raise a present sum : therefore go forth ; 180 
Try what my credit can in Venice do : 
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
Go, presently inquire, and so will 1, 
Where money is ; and I no question make 185 
To have it of my trust, or for my sake. 

\_Exeunt, 



Act 1. Sco ii.j OF VENICli;. 5^ 



Scene II. 

Belmont. A roo?n hi Portia's house. 

Enter Portia and JVerissa. 

For. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is 
aweary of this great world. 

2/er, You would be, sweet madam, if your miser- 
ies were in the same abundance as your good 
5 fortunes are: and yet, for aught I see, they 

are as sick that surfeit with too much as they 
that starve with nothing. It is no mean hap- 
piness, therefore, to be seated in the mean: 
superfluity comes sooner by white hairs; but 
10 competency lives longer. 

Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. 

JVer. They would be better if well followed. 

Por. It to do were as easy as to know what were 
good to do, chapels had been churches, and 
:5 poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a 

good divine that follows his own instructions «^ 
I can easier teach twenty what were good to 
be done, than be one of the twenty to follow 
mine own teaching. The brain may devise 
ao laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps 

o'er a cold decree: such, a hare Ls madness the 
youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good coun- 



54 THE MEKCHANT [Act I. Sc. ii. 

sel the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the 
fashion to choose me a husband. O me, the 
word 'choose'! I may neither choose whom 25 
I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the 
will of a living daughter curbed by the will of 
a dead father. Is it not hard, Nerissa, that 
I cannot choose one, nor refuse none? 

Ner. Your father was ever Virtuous; and holy 30 
men, at their death, have good inspirations: 
therefore the lottery that he hath devised in 
these three chests of gold, silver, and lead, — 
whereof who chooses his meaning chooses 
you, — will, no doubt, never be chosen by any » 
rightly but one who shall rightly love. But 
what warmth is there in your affection towards 
any of these princely suitors that are already 
come? 

Por, I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou «> 
namest them, I will describe them; and, 
according to my description, level at my 
affection. 

Ker. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 

Por. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing 45 
but talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great 
appropriation to his own good parts, that he 
can shoe him himself. 

Ker. Then there is the County Palatine. 

Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who should M 
say, *if you will not have me, choose-' he 
hears merry tales, and smiles not: I fear he 



AcTl. Sc. ii.] OF VENICE. 55 

will prove the weeping philosopher when he 
grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness 

ss in his youth. I had rather be married to a 

death's head with a bone in his mouth than 

to either of these. God defend me from these 

two! 

Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur 

60 Le Bon? 

Po7\ God made him, and therefore let him pass 
for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be 
a mocker: but, he! — why, he hath a horse 
better than the Neapolitan's; a better bad 

65 habit of frowning than the Count Palatine: 

he is every man in no man; if a throstle sing, 
he falls straight a capering: he will fence 
with his own shadow : if 1 should marry him, 
I should marry twenty husbands. If he 

70 would despise me, I would forgive him ; for if 

he love me to madness I shall never requite 
him. 
Ner, What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the 
young baron of England? 

^ Por, You know I say nothing to him, for he 
understands not me, nor I him: he hath 
neither Latin, French, nor Italian; and you 
will come into the court and swear that I 
have a poor pennyworth in the English. He 

«) is a proper man's picture; but, alas, who can 

converse with a dumb-show? How oddly he 
is suited! I think he bought his doublet 



56 i'HE MERCHANT [Act I. Sc. ii. 

in Italy, his roiiiid hose in France, nis bon- 
net in Germany, and his behaviour every 
where. ss 

Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his 
neighbour? 

Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; 
ior he borrowed a box of the ear of the 
Englishman, and swore he would pay him 9C 
agaiL when he was able : I think the French- 
man became his surety, and sealed under for 
another. 

N^-'y- How like you the young German, the Duke 
of Saxony's nephew? 95 

For. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober ; 
and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is 
drunk : when he is best, he is a little worse than 
a man; and when he is worst, he is little 
better than a beast : an the worst fall that 10c 
ever fell. 1 hope I shall make shift to go with- 
out him. 

Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the 
right casket, you should refuse to perform 
your father's will, if you should refuse to accept 105 
him. 

For. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, 
set a deep glass of Ehenish wine on the con- 
trary casket ; for, if the devil be within and 
that temptation without, I know he will ii« 
choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, eie 
I'll be married to a sponge. 



Act I, Sc. ii.] OF VEISICE 57 

^er. You need not fear, lady, the having any of 
these lords: they have acquainted me with 

115 their determinations; which is, indeed, to 

return to their home, and to trouble you with 
no more suit, unless you may be won by some 
other sort than your father's imposition 
depending on the caskets. 

120 Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as 
chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the 
manner of my father's will. I am glad this 
parcel of wooers are so reasonable, for there is 
not one among them but I dote on his very 

125 absence; and I pray God grant them a fair 

departure. 

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's 

time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, 

that came hither in company of the Marquis 

130 of Montferrat? 

For. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, he was 

so called. 
Ner. True, madam: he, of all the men that ever 
my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best 

135 deserving a fair lady. 

Por. I remember him well; and I remember him 
worthy of thy praise. 

Enter a Serving -man. 

How now! what news? 
8erv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to 
140 take their leave: and there is a forerunner 



58 THE MERCHANT [Act I, Sc. iii. 

come from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco; 
who brings word the prince his master will 
be here to-night. 
Por, If I could bid the fifth welcome with so 
good a heart as I can bid the other four fare- 145 
well, I should be glad of his approach: if he 
have the condition of a saint and the com- 
plexion of a devil, I had rather he should 
shrive me than wive me. 

Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. 150 

Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, 
another knocks at the door. [Exeunt. 



Scene III. 

Venice. A public place. 

Enter Bassanio and Shyloch. 

Sky. Three thousand ducats ; well. 

Rass. Ay, sir, for three months. 

Shy. For three months ; well. 

Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shfdl 

be bound. « 

Shy. Antonio shall become bound ; well. 
Bass. May you stead me? will you pleasure me? 

shall I know your answer? 
Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months., 

and Antonio bound, * 

Bass. Your answer to that.. 



Act I, Sc. iii.] OF V^NICF 59 

Shy. Antonio is a good man. 
Bass. Have you heard any imputation to tne con- 
trary ? 

15 S]nj. Ho, no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying 
he is a good man is to have you understand 
me, that he is sufficient. Yet his means are 
in supposition : he hath an argosy bound to 
TripoHs, another to the Indies; I understand 

20 moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at 

Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ven- 
tures he hath, squandered abroad. But ships 
are but boards, sailors but men; there be 
land-rats and water-rats, water- thieves and 

25 land-thieves, I mean pirates; and then there 

is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The 

man is, notwithstanding, sufficient. Three 

thousand ducats; I think I may take his bond. 

Bass. Be assured you may. 

80 Bliij. I will be assured I may; and, that I may be 
assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with 
Antonio ? 
Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 
BJiy, Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation 

35 which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the 

devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, 
talk with you, walk with you, and so follow- 
ing; but I will not eat with you, drink with 
you, nor pray with you. What news on the 

40 Rialto? Who is he comes here? 

^nter Antonio. 



m THE MERCHANT [Act I. So. iii, 

Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 

8h^. [Aside] Row like a fawning publican he 
looks ! 
I hate him for he is a Christian, 
.Rut more for that in low simplicity 
He lends out money gratis and brings down *8 
The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
T will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
He hates oar sacred nation; and he rails, 
Even there where merchants most do congre- 58 

gate, 
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift. 
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 
If I forgive him! 

Bass. Shylock, do you he^r? 

Shy. I am debating of my present store ; 

And, by the near guess of my memory^ st 

I cannot instantly raise up the gross 

Of fuU three thousand ducats. What of that? 

Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, 

Will furnish me. But soft ! how many months 

Do you desire? [To Ant.] Eest you fair, 6q 

good signior ; 
Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 

Ant. Shylock, although I neither lend nor bor- 
row 
By taking nor by giving of excess, 
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess 'd 6S 



Act I. Sc. iii.j OF VENICEi. 61 

How much ye would? 
Shy, Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 

Ant. And for three months. 
Shy* I had forgot ; three months, you told me so. 
Well then, your bond; and let me see; but 
hear you ; 
^ Methought you said you neither lend noi 

borrow 
Upon advantage. 
Ant. I do never use it. 

Shy, When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban'g 
sheep, — 
This Jacob from our holy Abram was, 
As his wise mother wrought in his behalf, 
ts The third possessor; ay, he was the third, — 

Ant. And what of him? did he take interest? 
Shy, ISTo, not take interest; not, as you would say 
Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. 
When Laban and himself were compromised 
so That all the eanlings which were streak'd and 

pied 
Should fall as Jacob's hire, 
The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands, 
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, 
Who, then conceiving, did ' n eaning time 
© Fall parti-colour 'd lambs, and those wer« 

Jacob's. 
This was a way to thrive, and he was blesu: 
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 
Ant, This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for ; 



62 THE MERCHANT [Act I. So. iit 

A thing not in his power to bring to pass, 

But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of 90 

heaven. 
Was this inserted to make interest good? 
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams? 

Shy, I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast : 
But note me, signior. 

Ant. Mark you this, Bassanio, 

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. 95 
An evil soul, producing holy witness, 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; 
A goodly apple rotten at the heart : 
0, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! 

Shy, Three thousand du cats ; ' tis a good round sum. 100 
Three months from twelve; then, let me see; 
the rate — 

Ant, Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you? 

Shy, Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 
In the Eialto you have rated me 
About my moneys and my usances : 105 

Still have I borne it with a patient shrug. 
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
Yon call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog. 
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine. 
And all for use of that which is mine own. no 
Well then, it now appears you need my help: 
Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say 
* Shylock, we would have moneys :' you say so; 
You, that did void your rheum upon my 
beard- 



Act I. So. iii.] OF VENICE. ' 63 

115 And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur 

Over your threshold: moneys is your suit. 

What should I say to you? Should I not say 

*Hath a dog money? is it possible 

A cur can lend three thousand ducats?' or 
120 Shall 1 bend low and in a bondman's key, 

With bated breath and whispering humbleness. 

Say this, — • 

*Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; 

You spurn'd me such a day; another time 
125 You cail'd me dog; and for these courtesies 

I'll lend you thus much moneys'? 
Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, 

To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 

If thou wilt Lnd this money, lend it not 
130 As to thy friends ; for when did friendship 
take 

A breed for barren metal of his friend? 

But lend it rather to thine enemy ; 

Who if he break, thou mayest with better face 

Exact the penalty. 
Sf^y- Why, look you, how you storm! 

135 I would be friends with you, and haye your 
love. 

Forget the shames that you have stain 'd me 
with, 

Supply your present wants, and take no doit 

Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear 
me: 

This is kind I offer. 



64 THE MERCHANT [Act I. So. iii. 

Bass. This were kindness. uo 

Shy, This kindness will I show. 

Go with me to a notary, seal me there 
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport, 
If you repay me not on such a day, 
In such a place, such sum or sums as are 
Express 'd in the condition, let the forfeit 145 

Be nominated for an equal pound 
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
In what part of your body pleaseth me. 

Ant, Content, i' faith: I'll seal to such a bond, 

And say there is much kindness in the Jew. 150 

Bass, You shall not seal to such a bond for me: 
I'll rather dwell in my necessity. 

Ant. Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it: 
Within these two months, that's a month 

before 
This bond expires, I do expect return 153 

Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 

Shy, father Abram, what these Christians are, 
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 
The thoughts of others ! Pray you , tell me this : 
If he should break his day, what should I gain 160 
By the exaction of the forfeiture? 
A pound of man's flesh taken from a man 
Is not so estimable, .profitable neither, 
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say. 
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship: s6B 
If h3 will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 

my love, I pray you wrong me not. 



ActL Sc. iii.] OF VENICE. 6§ 

Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 
Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's; 
i?o Give him direction for this merry bond; 

And I will go and purse the ducats straight ; 
See to my house, left in the fearful guard 
Of an unthrifty knave; and presently 
I will be with you. 
Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. 

[Exit Shyloch, 

ns The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows 

kind. 

Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 

Ant. Come on ; in this there can be no dismay ; 

My ships come home a month before the day. 

[Exeunt. 



66 THE MERCHANT [Act II. Bg i 



ACT SECOND. 

Scein^e I. 

Belmont. A room in Portia'' s house. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco 

and his train; Portia, JVerissa, and 

others atte7idi7ig. 

Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, 

The shadow'd livery of the bnrnish'd sun, 
To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. 
Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, 5 
And let us make incision for your love, 
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. 
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
Hath fear'd the valiant: by my love, I swear 
The best-regarded virgins of our clime it 

Have loved it too : I would not change this hue, 
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle 
queen. 

For. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes ; 
Besides, the lottery of my destiny if 

Bars me the right of voluntary choosing: 
But if my father had not scanted me 

66 



i^CT II. Sc. i.J OF VENICE. 6? 

And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself 
His wife who wins me by that means I told 
yon, 

'if' Yonrself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 

As any comer I have look'd on yet 
For my affection. 
Mor. Even for that I thank you: 

Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets 
To try my fortune. By this scimitar 

25 That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince 

That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 
I would outstare the sternest eyes that look. 
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, 
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she- 
bear, 

30 ■ Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while! 
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 
Which is the better man, the greater throw 
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand : 

s.^ So is Alcides beaten by his page ; 

And so may I, blind fortune leading me. 
Miss that which one unworthier may attain. 
And die with grieving. 
For. You must take your chance. 

And either not attempt to choose at all, 

40 Or swear before you choose, if you choose 

wrong, 
Never to speak to lady afterward 
In way of marriage : therefore be advised. 



68 THE MERCHANT [Act II. Sc. il 

Mor, Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my 

chance. 
For. First, forwarc .0 the temple : after dinner 

Your hazard shall be made. *5 

Mor. Good fortune then ! 

To make me blest or cursed'st among men. 

[Cornets^ and exeunt. 



SCEN'E II. 

Venice. A street. 

, Enter Launcelot. 

Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me to 
run from this Jew my master. The fiend is 
at mine elbow and tempts me, saying to me, 
^Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,' 
or *good Gobbo,' or 'good Launcelot Gobbo, 5 
use your legs, take the start, run away.' My 
conscience says, 'No; take heed, honest Laun- 
celot; take heed, honest Gobbo,' or, as afore- 
said, * honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; 
scorn running with thy heels.' Well, the 10 
most courageous fiend bids me pack: 'Via!' 
says the fiend; 'away!' says the fiend; 'for the 
heavens, rouse up a brave mind,' says the 
fiend, 'and run.' Well, my conscience, hang- 
ing about the neck of my heart, says very 15 
wiselv to me, 'My honest friend Launcelot, 



Act ix. Sc. ii.j OF v ENICE. 69 

being an honest man's son,' — or rather an 
honest woman's son; — for, indeed, my father 
did something smack, something grow to, he 

80 had a kind of taste ; — well, my conscience says, 

*Launcelot, budge not.' 'Budge,' says the 
fiend. 'Budge not,' says my conscience. 
'Conscience,' say I, 'you counsel well;' 
'Fiend,' say I, 'you counsel well:' to be rui^d 

85 by my conscience, I should fetay with the Jew 

my master, who, God bless the mark, is a 
kind of devil; and, to rcn away from the 
Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, sav- 
ing your reverence, is the devil himself. Oer- 

30 tainly the Jew is the very devil incarnal; and, 

in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind 
of hard conscience, to offer to counsel me to 
stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more 
friendly counsel: I will run, fie..d; my heels 

35 are at your command; I will run. 

Enter old Golho^ witli a hashet, 

Goh. Master yo-ung man, you, I pray you, which 
is the way to master Jew's? 

Laun. [Aside] heavens, this is my true-begot- 
ten father! who, being more than sand-blind, 
io high-gravel blind, knows me not: I will try 

confusions with him. 

Goh, Master young gentleman, I pray you, which 
is the way to master Jew's? 

Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next 



70 THE MERCHANT [ACT II. So. it 

turning, but, at the next turning of all, on 4b 
your left; marry, at the very next turning, 
turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to 
the Jew's house. 

Got. By God's son ties, 'twill be a hard way to 
hit. Can you tell me whether one Launoelot, 5u 
that dwells with him, dwell with him or no? 

Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? 
[AsideJ Mark me now; now will I raise the 
W' ters. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? 

Gob. 'No master, sir, biifc a poor man's son: his 55 
father, though I say it, is an honest exceed- 
ing poor man, and, God be thanked, well to 
live. 

Laun. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk 
of young Master Launcelot. 6o 

God. Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir. 

Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I 
beseech you, talk you of young Master Laun- 
celot? 

Goh. Of Launcelot, an 't please yonr mastership. 65 

Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of 
Master Launcelot, father; for the young gen- 
tleman, according to Fates and Destinies and 
such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such 
branches of learning, is indeed deceased; or, 70 
as you would say in plain terms, gone to 
heaven. 

^sib. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very 
staff of my age, my very prop. 



ACTIL Sc. ii.] OF VENICE. 71 

35 Laun. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a 
staff or a prop? Do yon know me, father? 
Gol). Alack the day, I know you not, young gen- 
tleman: but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, 
God rest his soul, alive or dead? 
so Latin. Do you not know me, father? 

Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not. 

Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you 

might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise 

father that knows his own child. Well, old 

85 man, I will tell you news of your son : give 

me your blessing: truth will come to light; 

murder cannot be hid long; a man's son may; 

but, at the length, truth will out. 

Goi. Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are 

90 not Launcelot, my boy. 

Laun, Pray you, let's have no more fooling about 
it, but give me your blessing: I am Launcelot, 
your boy that was, your son that is, your 
child that shall be. 
95 Goh. I cannot think you are my son. 

Laun. I know not what I shall think of that: but 
I am Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am 
sure Margery your wife is my mother. 
Goh. Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be 
loa sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine 

own flesh and blood. Lord worshipped might 
he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast 
got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my 
fill-horse has on his tail 



72 THE MERCHANT [Act H. Sc. ii. 

Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail 105 
grows backward: I am sure he had more hair 
of his tail than I have of my face when I last 
saw him. 

Gob. Lord, how art thou changed! How dost 
thou and thy master agree? I have brought no 
him a present. How 'gre^e you now? 

Laun. Well, well: but for mine own part, as I. 
have set up my rest to run away, so I will not 
rest till I have run some ground. My master's 
a very Jew: give him a present! give him a us 
halter : I am famished in his service ; you may 
tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, 
I am glad you are come : give me your present 
to one Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives 
rare new liveries : if I serve not him, I will 120 
run as far as Grod has any ground. rare 
fortune! here comes the man: to him, father; 
for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. 

Enter Bassanio^ with Leonardo and other fol- 

loiuers. 

Bass. You may do so; but let it be so hasted 
that supper be ready at the farthest by five of 125 
the clock. See these letters delivered; put 
the liveries to making; and desire Gratiano to 
come anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servajit. 

Jjaun. To him, father. 

Gob. God bless your worship! 130 

Bass. Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me? 



iiCTlI. Sc. ii.] OF VENICE. . 73 

Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy, — 
Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's 
man; that would, sir, — as my father shall 
135 specify; — 

Ooh. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would 

say, to serve — 
Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I servo 
the Jew, and have a desire, — as my father 
140 shall specify, — 

Gol. His master and he, saving your worship's 

reverence, are scarce cater-cousins, — ■ 
Laun. To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, 
having done me wrong, doth cause me, as 
145 my father, being, I hope, an old man, shall 

frutify unto you, — 
Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I would 
bestow upon your worship, and my suit is, — ■ 
Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to 
150 myself, as your worship shall know by this 

honest old man; and, though I say it, though 
old man, yet poor man, my father. 
Bass. One speak for both. What would you? 
Laun. Serve you, sir. 
155 Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. 
Bass. I know thee well; thou hast obtain'd thy 
suit : 
Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, 
And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment 
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 
160 The follower of so poor a gentleman. 



74 THE MERCHANT [Act II. Sc. ii. 

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between 
my master Shylock and you, sir : you have the 
grace of Grod, sir, and he hath enough. 

BasB, Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy 
son. 
Take leave of thy old master and inquire 165 

My lodging out. Give him a livery 
More guarded than his fellows': see it done, 

Laun. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I 
have ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any 
man in Italy have a fairer table which doth 170 
offer to swear upon a book ! I shall have good 
fortune. Goto, here's a simple line of life: 
here's a small trifle of wives: alas, fifteen 
wives is nothing! eleven widows and nine 
maids is a simple coming-in for one man: and 175 
then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be in 
peril of my life with the edge of a feather- 
bed; here are simple scapes. Well, if Fortune 
be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear. 
Father, come; I'll take my leave of the Jew iso 
in the twinkling of an eye. 

[Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobho, 

Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this : 
These things being bought and orderly be- 

stow'd. 
Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 
My best-esteem'd acquaintance : hie thee, go. 185 

Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. 
Eater Gratiano. 



Act II. Sc. ii.J OF VENICE. 75 

Gra. Where is your master? 

Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks. \^Exit, 

Gra. Signior Bassanio. — 
Bass. Gratiano! 
190 Gra. I have a suit to you. 

Bass. You have obtain 'd it. 

Gra. You must not deny me: I must go with you 

to Belmont. 
Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, 
Gratiano : 
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice; 
Parts that become thee happily enough, 
195 And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 

But where thou art not known, why there 

they show 
Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain 
To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
Thy skipping spirit lest, through thy wild 
behaviour, 
200 I be misconstrued in the place I go to, 

And lose my hopes. 
Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me: 

If I do not put on a sober habit. 
Talk with respect, and swear but now and 

then. 
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look de- 
murely, 
5205 Nay more, while grace .is saying, hood mine 

eyes 
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say *amen;' 



Vt) THE MERCHANT [Act II. Sc. iii. 

Use all the observance of civility, 

Like one well studied in a sad ostent 

To please his grandam, never trust me more. 

Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. 210 

Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not 
gauge me' 
By what we do to-night. 

Bass. No, that were pity: 

I would entreat you rather to put on 
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
That purpose merriment. But fare you well : 8I6 
I have some business. 

Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest : 
But we will visit you at supper-time. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEI^E III. 

The same. A room in Shylock^s house. 

Enter Jessica and Launcelot. 

Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so: 
Our house is hell ; and thou, a merry devil, 
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
But fare thee well; there is a ducat for thee: 
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 5 
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest: 
Give him this letter; do it secretly; 
And so farewell : I woula not have my father 
Bee me in talk with thee. 



ACT 11. Sc. iv.] OF VENICE. 77 

10 Laun. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most 

beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew ! But, adieu ; 

these foolish drops do something drown my 

manly spirit: adieu. 

Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. \^Exit Laiincelot. 

16 Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 

To be ashamed to be my father's child! 
But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
I am not to his manners. Lorenzo, 
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 

ao Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. 

[Exit. 

Scene IY. 
The same. A street. 

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo., Salarino, and Salanio, 

Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time, 

Disguise us at my lodging, and return 

All in an hour. 
Gra. We have not made good preparation. 
^ 8alar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. 
Salan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order 'd, 

And better in my mind not undertook. 
Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock: we have two 
hours 

To furnish us. 

Enter Launcelot^ luith a letter. 

Friend Launcelot, what's the news? 



78 THE MERCHANT [Act H. be. iv. 

Laun. An it sliall please yon to break up this, it 10 

shall seem to signify. 
Lor, I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand; 

And whiter than the paper it writ on 

Is the fair hand that writ. 
Gra. Love-news, in faith. 

Laun. By your leave, sir. ^^ is 

Lor. Whither goest thon? 
Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to 

sup to-night with my new master the Chris- 
tian. 
Lor, Hold here, take this: tell gentle Jessica 20 

I will not fail her ; speak it privately. 

Go, gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot, 

Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? 

I am provided of a torch-bearer. 
Solar. Ay, marry, I'll begone about it straight. 25 
Salan. And so will I. 
Lor. Meet me and Gratiano 

At Gratiano 's lodging some hour hence. 
Salar. 'Tis good we do so. 

[Exeunt Salar. and Salan, 
Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica? 
Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed 30 

How I shall take her from her father's house; 

What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with; 

What page's suit she hath in readiness. 

If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, 

It will be for his gentle daughter's sake: 36 

And never dare misfortune cross her foot, 



Act II, Sc. v.] OF VENICE. 79 

Unless she do it under this excuse, 
That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest: 
40 Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. 

[Uxeunt. 

SCEKE V. 

TJie same. Before Shyloch^s house. 
Enter Sliyloch and Launcelot* 

Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy 
judge, 
The diSereuce of old Shylcck and Bassanio: — 
What, Jessica! — thou shalt not gormandise. 
As thou hast done with me : — What, Jessica! — 
s And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out;— 

Why, Jessica, I say! 

Laun. Why, Jessica! 

Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call. 

Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me tnat I 
could do nothing without bidding. 

Enter Jessica. 

10 Jes, Call you? what is your will? 
Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica : 

There are my keys. But wherefore should I 

go? 
I am not bid for love; they flatter me: 
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
IB The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl. 



80 THE MERCHANT [Act 11. iSc. v. 

Look to my house. I am right loath to go : 
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 

Laun, I beseech you, sir, go: my young master 
doth expect your reproach. 2C 

87iy, So do I his. 

Laun. And they have conspired together, I will 
not say you shall see a masque ; but if you do, 
then it was not for nothing that my nose fell 
a-bleeding on Black-Monday last at six o'clock 25 
i' the morning, falling out that year on Ash- 
Wednesday was four year, in the afternoon. 

Sliy, What, are there masques? Hear you me, 
Jessica : 
Lock up my doors; and when you hear the 

drum. 
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, so 
Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
Nor thrust your head into the public street 
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd 

faces ; 
But stop my house's ears, I mean my case- 
ments : 
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter ss 
My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear 
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night : 
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah; 
Say I will come. 

Laun. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at 40 
window, for all this : 



Act II. Sc. vi.] OF VENICE. 81 

There will come a Christian by, 
Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Uxit, 

Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? 
i& Jes. His words were, 'Farewell, mistress'; nothing 
else. 
Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder; 
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
More than the wild-cat : drones hive not with 

me; 
Therefore I part with him; and part with him 
so To one that I would have him help to waste 

His borrowed purse. Well, Jessica, go in: 
Perhaps I will return immediately : 
Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you : 
Fast bind, fast find; 
65 A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [Exit. 

Jes. Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost, 
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. \^Exit. 

Scene YI. 

The same. 
Enter Gratiano and Salarino^ masqued, 

Gra. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo 

Desired us to make stand. 
Salar. His hour is almost past. 

Gra. And it is marvel he out-dweils his hour. 

For lovers ever run before the clock. 



82 THE MERCHANT [Act II. be. vl 

Solar. 0, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly s 

To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are 

wont 
To keep obliged faith nnf orfeited ! 

Gra. That ever holds : who riseth from a feast 
With that keen appetite that he sits down? <' 
Where is the horse that doth untread again w 
His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
That he did pace them first? All things that 

are, 
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy 'd. 
How like a younker or a prodigal 
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 16 
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! 
How like the prodigal doth she return, 
With over -weather 'd ribs and ragged sails, 
Lean, rent, and beggar 'd by the strumpet 
wind! 

Salar. Here comes Lorenzo : more of this hereafter. 20 

Enter Lorenzo. 

Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long 

abode ; 
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait: 
When you shall please to play the thieves for 

wives, 
I'll watch as long for you then. Approach; 
Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who's 25 

within? 



Act II. Sc. vi.] OF VENICE. 83 

Enter Jessica, above ^ in boy'^s clothes. 
Jes. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, 
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. 
Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love. 
Jes. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love, indeed, 
ao For who love I so much? And now who 

-knows 
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? 
Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that 

thou art. 
Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the 
pains. 
I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, 
35 For I am much ashamed of my exchange : 

But love is blind, and lovers cannot see 
The pretty follies that themselves commit; 
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
To see me thus transformed to a boy. 
40 Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 
t/es.What, must I hold a candle to my shames? 
They in themselves, good sooth, are too too 

light. 
"Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love; 
And I should be obscured. 
Lor. So are you, sweet, 

45 Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 

But come at once; 

For the close night doth play the runaway, 
And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. 
Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 



84 THE MEKCHAiN 1 [Act ll. !Sc. vi. 

With some more ducats, and be with you so 
straight. \^Exit above. 

Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. 
Lor. Beshrew me but I love her heartily; 

For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; 

And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true; 

And true she is, as she hath proved herself; 55 

And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and 
true. 

Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 

Enter Jessica^ below. 

What, art thou come? On, gentlemen; away! 

Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 

[Exit ivitli Jessica and Salarino, 

Enter Antonio. 

Ant. Who's there? 60 

Gra. Signior Antonio! 

Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano; where are all the rest? 

'Tis nine o'clock: our friends all stay for you. 

No masque to-night: the wind is come about; 

Bassanio presently will go aboard: m 

I have sent twenty out to seek for you. 
Gra. I am glad on 't : I desire no more delight 

Than to be under sail and gone to-night. 

[Exeunt, 



Act II. Sc. vii.j OF VENICE. 85 



ScEiq^E VII. 

Belmont, A roo7n in Portions house. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia^ with the Prince 
of Morocco, and their trains. 

Par. Go draw aside the curtains, and discover 
The several caskets to this noble prince. 
Now make your choice. 
Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears, 
5 'Wno chooseth me shall gain what many men 

desire ;' 
The second, silver, which this promise carries, 
*Who chooseth me shall get as much as he 

deserves;' 
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, 
*Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he 
hath.' 
l» How shall I know if I do choose the right? 

Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince* 

If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 
Mor. Some god direct my judgement ! Let me seej 
I will survey the inscriptions back again. 
If What says this leaden casket? 

*Who chooseth me must give and hazard all 
he hath.' 



/" 



86 THE MERCHANT [Act H. Sc. vii. 

Must give,— for what? for lead? hazard for 

lead? 
This casket threatens. Men that hazard all 
Do it in hope of fair advantages : 
A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; saa 
I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 
What says the silver with her virgin hue? 
*Who chooseth me shall get as much as he 

deserves.' 
As much as he deserves ! Pause there, 

Morocco, 
And weigh thy value with an even hand: 8s 

If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, 
Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough 
May not extend so far as to the lady: 
And yet to be af eared of my deserving 
Were but a weak disabling of myself. 80 

As much as I deserve! Why, that's the lady: 
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes^ 
In graces and in qualities of breeding; 
But more than these, in love I do deserve. 
What if I stray'd no further, but chose here? 35 
Let's see once more this saying graved in gold ; 
*Who chooseth me shall gain what many men 

desire.' 
Why, that's the lady; all the world desires 

her; 
From the four corners of the earth they come, 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing iq 

saint: 



Act II. So. vii.] OF VENICE. 87 

The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds 
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now 
For princes to come view fair Portia: 
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 
45 Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 

To stop the foreign spirits; but they come, 

As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 

One of these three contains her heavenly 

picture. 
Is't like that lead contains her? 'Twere 
damnation 
50 To think so base a thought? it were too 
gross 
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
Or shall I think in silver she's immured, 
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold? 
sinf Lil thought ! Never so rich a gem. 
^5 Was set in worse than gold. They have in 

England 
A coin that bears the fig are of an angel 
Stamped in gold, but that's insculp'd upon; 
But here an angel in a golden bed 
Lies all within. Deliver me the key: 
60 Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may! 

Por. There, take it, prince; and if my form lia 
there, 
Then I am yours. 

[^He unlocJcs the golden cashet. 
Mor. hell! what have we here? 

A carrion Death, within whose empty eye 



88 THE MERCHANT [Act II. Sc. via 

There is a written scroll ! I'll read the writ- 
ing, 
[Readsl All that glisters is not gold ; ts 

Often have you heard that told : 
Many a man his life hath sold 
But my outside to behold: 
Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
Had you been as wise as bold, K 

Young in limbs, in judgement old, 
Your answer had not been inscroll'd: 
Fare yon well; your suit is cold. 
Cold, indeed; and labour lost: 
Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost! ^ 

Portia, adieu. 1 have too grieved a heart 
To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. 
[Exit with Ms train. Flourish of cornets. 
For, A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. 
Let all of his complexion choose me so. 

[ExeunL 



Scene VIII. 
Venice. A street. 

Enter Salarino and Salanio, 

&alar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail: 
With him is Gratiano gone along; 
And, in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. 



Act II. Sc. viii.] OF VENICE. 89 

Solan, The villain Jew with outcries raised the 
Duke, 
1 Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 

Solar, He came too late, the ship was under sail: 
But there the Duke was given to understand 
That in a gondola were seen together 
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica: 
10 Besides, Antonio certified the Duke 

They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 
Solan. I never heard a passion so confused, 
So strange, outrageous, and so variable. 
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : 
ih 'My daughter ! my ducats ! my daughter ! 

Med with a Christian ! my Christian ducats I 
Justice ! the law ! my ducats, and my daughter ! 
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, 
Of double ducats, stolen from me by my 
daughter ! 
80 And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious 

stones. 
Stolen by my daughter! Justice! find the 

girl; 
She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats !' 
Solar, Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, 
Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his 
ducats. 
25 Solan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 
Or he shall pay for this. 
Solar. Marry, well remember'd. 

I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday, 



«J0 ^HE MERCHAlN a [Act II. JSc. viit 

Who told me, in the narrow seas that part 
The French and English, there miscarried 
A vessel of our country richly fraught : 
I thought upon Antonio when he told me; 
And wish'd in silence that it were not his. 

Salmi. You were best to tell Antonio what you 
hear; 
Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 

Salar, A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part: 
Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
Of his return: he answer'd, 'Do not so; 
Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, 
But stay the very riping of the time; 
And for" the Jew's bond which he hath of me, 
Let it not enter in your mind of love : 
Be merry ; and employ your chief est thoughts 
To courtship, and such fair ostents of love 
As shall conveniently become you there:' 
And even there, his eye being big with tears. 
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
And with affection wondrous sensible 
He wrung Bassanio 's hand; and so they 
parted. 

Solan. I think he only loves the world for him. 
I pray thee, let us go and find him out, 
And quicken his embraced heaviness. 
With some delight or other. 

Salar Do we so. 

\^Exeunt 



ACTII. fc>o. ix.j OF VENICE. 93 

Scene IX, 

Belmont. A room in Portia^s house. 

Enter JSferissa and a Servitor. 

Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain 
straight: 
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, 
And comes to his election presently. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon^ 
Portia^ and their trains. 

Par, Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince : 
4 If you choose that wherein I am contain'd. 

Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized: 
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, 
You must be gone from hence immediately. 

Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: 
.d First, never to unfold to any one 

Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail 
Of the right casket, never in my life 
To woo a maid in way of marriage : 
Lastly, 
15 If I do fail in fortune of my choice, 

Immediately to leave you and be gone. 

Par. To these injunctions every one doth swear 
That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 



92 THE MERCHANT [Act H. Sc. ix. 

Ar, And so have I address 'd me. Fortune now 
To my heart's hope! Gold; silver; and base ^d 

lead. 
*Who chooseth me must give and hazard all 

he hath.' 
You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. 
What says the golden chest? ha! let me see: 
*Who chooseth me shall gain what many men 

desire. ' 
What many men desire! that 'many' may be 25 

meant 
By the fool multitude, that choose by show, 
Not learning more than the fond eye doth 

teach ; 
Which pries not to the interior, but, like tho 

martlet, 
Builds in the weather on the outward wall, 
Even in the force and road of casualty. 30 

I will not choose what many men desire, 
Because I will not jump with common spirits, 
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. 
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house ; 
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear : 35 
'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he 

deserves:' 
And well said too ; for who shall go about 
To cozen fortune, and be honourable 
Without the stamp of merit? Let none pro- 

sume 
To wear an undeserved dignity. 40 



Act ii. Sc. ix.] OF VENICE. 92 

0, that estates, degrees and offices 

Were not derived corruptly, and that clear 

honour 
Were purchased bj the merit of the wearer! 
How many then should cover that stand bare I 
45 How many be commanded that command! 

How much low peasantry would then be 

glean'd 
From the true seed of honour! and how much 

honour 
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, 
To be new-varnish 'd! Well, but to my choice 
50 *Who chooseth me shall get as much as he 

deserves.' 
I will assume desert. Give me a key" for this, 
And instantly unlock my fortunes here* 

[He opens the silver casket. 
For. [Aside^ Too long a pause for that which you 

find there. 
Ar. What's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot 
55 Presenting me a schedule ! I will read it. 

How much unlike art thou to Portia ! 
How much unlike my hopes and my deservings ! 
' Who chooseth me shall have as much as he 

deserves.' 
Did I deserve no more than a fool's head? 
60 Is that my prize? are my deserts no better? 

Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices, 

And of opposed natures. 
Ar. What is here? 



94 THE MEECHANT [Act II. So. fix. 

[Readsl The fire seven times tried this : 

Seven times tried that judgement is. 
That did never choose amiss. 65 

Some there be that shadows kiss ; 
Such have but a shadow's bliss: 
There be fools alive, I wis, 
Silver 'd o'er; and so was this. 
Take what wife you will to bed, 7o 

I will ever be your head : 
So be gone: you are sped. 
Still more fool I shall appear 
By the time I linger here: 

With one fool's head I came to woo, 7f 

But I go away with two. 
Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath, 
Patiently to bear my wroth. 

[Exeunt Arragon and train, 
Por, Thus hath the candle singed the moth. 

0, these deliberate fools ! when they do choose, so 
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 
Aer. The ancient saying is no heresy, 

flanging and wiving goes by destiny* 
For. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 

Enter a Servant. 

Serv, Where is my lady? 85 

Por. Here : what would my lord? 

Serv, Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
A young Venetian, one that comes before 
To signify the approaching of his lord; 



Act II. Sc. ix.] OF VENICE. 95 

From whom he bringeth sensible regreets, 
00 To wit, besides commends and courteous 

breath, 
Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen 
So likely an ambassador of love : 
A day in April never came so sweet, 
To show how costly summer was at hand, 
95 As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 

Por. No more, I pray thee : I am half afeard 
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, 
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising 

him. 
Come, come, Nerissa ; for I long to see 
100 Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly 

Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! 



96 THE MERCHANT f Act IH. So 1 



ACT THIRD 

SCEN"E I 

Venice, A street. 

Enter Salanio and 8alarino» 

Satan. Now, what news on the Rialto? 

Salar, Why, yet it lives there unchecked that 
Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked on 
the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they 
call the place ; a very dangerous flat and fatal, s 
where the carcases of many a tall ship lie 
buried, as they say, if my gossip Report be 
an honest woman of her word. 

Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that 
as ever knapped ginger, or made her neigh- ic 
hours believt she wept for the death of a third 
husband. But it is true, without any slips of 
prolixity, or crossing the plain highway oX 
talk, that the good Antonio, the honest An- 
tonio, — that I had a title good enough to u 
keep his name company! — = 

Salar. Come, the full stop. 

Salan. Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, 
he hath lost a ship. 



Act III. Sc. i.] OF VENICE. 97 

20 Solar. I would it might prove the end of his losses. 
Solan, Let me say 'amen' betimes, lest the devil 
cross my prayer, for here he comes in the like- 
ness of a Jew. 

Enter Shyloch. 

How now, Shylock! what news among the 
25 merchants? 

Shy. Yon knew, none so well, none so well as yon, 

of my daughter's flight. 
Solar. That's certain: I, for my part, knew the 
tailor that made the wings she flew withal. 
30 Solo7i. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the 
bird was fledged; and then it is the complex- 
ion of them all to leave the dam. 
Shy. She is damned for it. 

Solar. That's certain, if the devil may be her 
85 jndge. 

Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel ! 

Solan. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these 

years? 
Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. 
40 Solar. There is more difference between thy flesh 
and hers than between jet and ivory; more 
between your bloods than there is between red 
wine and rhenish. But tell us, do you near 
whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or 
45 no? 

Shy. There I have another bad match: a bank- 
rupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his 



98 THE MERCHANT [Act III. Sc. I 

head on the Eialto; a beggar, that was used 
to come so smng upon the mart; let him look 
to his bond : he was wont to call me usurer ; 30 
let him look to his bond : he was wont to lend 
money for a Christian courtesy ; let him look 
to his bond. 

l^alar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt 
not take his flesh: what's that good for? 55 

Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing 
else, it will feed my revenge. He hath dis- 
graced me, and hindered me half a million, 
laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, 
scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, eo 
cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and 
what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a 
Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, 
dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed 
with the same food, hurt with the same 65 
weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed 
by the same means, warmed and cooled by the 
same winter and summer, as a Christian is? 
If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle 
us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we 70 
not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not 
revenge? if we are like you in the rest, we 
will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a 
Christian, what is his humility? Eevenge. If 
a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his 75 
sufferance be by Christian example? Why, 
revenge. The villany you teach me, I will 



Act III. Sc. i.] OF VENICE. 99 

execute ; and it shall go hard but I will better 
the instruction. 

Enter a Servant. 

60 Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his 
house, and desires to speak with you both. 
Salar. We have been up and down to seek him. 

Enter Tubal. 

Salan. Here comes another of the tribe: a third 
cannot be matched, unless the devil himself 
85 turn Jew. 

[Exeunt Salan.., Salar., and Servant. 
Shy. How now, Tubal ! what news from Genoa? 

hast thou found my daughter? 
Tuh. I often came where I did hear of her, but 
cannot find her. 
90 Shy. Why, there, there, there, there! a diamond 
gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frank- 
fort ! The curse never fell upon our nation till 
now; I never felt it till now: two thousand 
ducats in that; and other precious, precious 
95 jewels. I would' my daughter were dead at 

my foot, and the jewels in her ear ! would she 
were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in her 
coffin! E"o news of them? Why, so: — and I 
know not what's spent in the search: why, 
100 thou loss upon loss! the thief gone with so 

much, and so much to find the thief; and no 
satisfaction, no revenge : nor no ill luck stir* 



IOC THE MERCHANT [Act III. 8c. i. 

ring but what lights on my shoulders; no 

sighs but of my breathing; no tears but of 

my shedding. 105 

Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, 

as I heard in Genoa, — 
Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? 
Till). Hath an argosy cast away, coming from 

Tripolis. 110 

Shy. I thank God, I thank God! Is't true, is't 

true? 
Tuh. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped 

the wreck. 
Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good 115 

news! ha, ha! where? in Genoa? 
Tul. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, 

in one night fourscore ducats. 
Shy. Thou stick 'st a dagger in me: I shall never 

see my gold again : fourscore ducats at a sit- 120 

ting ! fourscore ducats ! 
Till. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in 

my company to Venice, that swear he cannot 

choose but break. 
Shy. I am very glad of it: I'll plague him; I'll 125 

torture him : I am glad of it. 
Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had 

of your daughter for a monkey. 
Shy. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: 

It was my turquoise ; I had it of Leah when 130 

I was a bachelor : I would not have given it 

for a v/ilderness of monkeys. 



I 



ACTlII. Sc. ii] OF VENICE. 101 



T^il). But Antonio is certainly undone. 
Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, 
135 Tubal, fee me an officer; bespeak him a fort- 

night before. I will have the heart of him, 
if he forfeit; for, were he out of A^enice, I 
can make what merchandise I will. Go, go, 
Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go, 
140 good Tubal; at our synagogue. Tubal. 

[^Exeunt, 

SCEl^E II. 

Belmont. A room in Fortia''s house. 

Miter Bassanio^ Portia., Gratiano, Nerissa^ and 
Attendants. 

Por. I pray you, tarry; pause a day or two 

Before you hazard: for, in choosing wrong, 
I lose your company : therefore forbear awhile. 
There's something tells me, but it is not love, 
6 1 would not lose you ; and you know yourself, 

Hate counsels not in such a quality. 
But lest you should not understand me well, — 
And yet a maiden hath no tongue but 

thought, — 
I would detain you here some month or two 
10 Before you venture for me. I could teach you 

How to choose right, biit I am then forsworn; 
So will I never be : so may you miss me ; 



10:3 THE MERCHANT [Act III. Sc. ii. 

But if yon do, you'll make me wish a sin, 
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your 

eyes, 
They have o'er-look'd me, and divided me ; 15 
One half of me is yours, the other half yours, 
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then 

yours. 
And so all yours. 0, these naughty times 
Put bars between the owners and their rights ! 
And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it bo, 20 
Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. 
I speak too long; but 'tis to peize the time, 
To eke ib and to draw it out in length, 
To stay you from election. 

Bass. Let me choose; 

For as I am, I live upon the rack. 25 

Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess 

What treason there is mingled with your love. 

Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust, 

Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love: 
There may as well be amity and life ' so 

'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 

Por. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, 
Where men enforced do speak any thing. 

Bass. Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth. 

Por. Well then, confess and live. 85 

Bass, * Confess' and *love' 

Had been the very sum of my confession : 
happy torment, when my torturer 
Doth teach me answers for deliverance! 



Act III. Sc. ii.] OF VENICE. 103 

But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 
40 Por. Away, then! I am lock'd in one of them; 

If yon do love me, you will find me out. 

Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. 

Let music sound while he doth make his 
choice ; 

Then, if he lose, he makes a swan -like end, 
45 Fading in music : that the comparison 

May stand more proper, my eye shall be the 
stream, 

And watery death-bed for him. He may win ; 

And what is music then? Then music is 

Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
60 To a new-crowned monarch : such it is 

As are those dulcet sounds in break of day 

That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear, 

And summon him to marriage. Now he goes. 

With no less presence, but with much more 
love, 
65 Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 

The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 

To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice; 

The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, 

With bleared visages, come forth to view 
60 The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules ! 

Live thou, I live: with much, much more 
dismay 

I view the fight than thou that makest the fray. 
Mnsic^ tuhilst Bassanio comme^its on the caskets 
to himself. 



1©4 THE MERCHANT [Act III. Sa u. 

Song. 
Tell me where is fancy bred, 
Or in the heart or in the head? 
How begot, how nourished? 65 

Eeply, reply. 
It is engender 'd in the eyes, 
With gazing fed ; and fancy dies 
In the cradle where it lies. 

Let us all ring fancy's knell: 90 

I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell. 
All. Dii^g, dong, bell. 

Bass. So may the outward shows be least them- 
selves : 
The world is still deceived with ornament. 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 75 

But, being season'd with a gracious voice, 
Obscures the show of evil? In religion. 
What damned error, but some sober brow 
Will bless it, and approve it with a text, 
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? 80 

There is no vice so simple but assumes 
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts : 
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as 
false 
• As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars; 85 
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as 

milk; 
And these assume but valour's excrement 
To render them redoubted! Look on beauty, 



Act III. Sc. ii. J UF VETSlCJii. 105 

And yon shall see 'tis purchased by the weight ; 
90 Which therein works a miracle in nature, 

Making them lightest that wear most of it : 
So are those crisped snaky golden locks 
Which make such wanton gambols with ttie 

wind, 
Upon supposed fairness, often known 
95 To be the dowry of a second head. 

The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. 
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 
To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 
Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, 
lOO The seeming truth which cunning times 

put on 
To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy 

gold. 
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee; 
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common 

drudge , 

'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre 

lead, 
105 Which rather threatenest than dost promise 

aught. 
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence ; 
And here choose I: joy be the consequence! 
Por, \_Aside] How all the other passions fleet to 

air, 
As doubtful thoughts, and rash - embraced 

despair, 
110 And shuddering fear, and green -eyed jealousy I 



106 THE MERCHANT [Act IH. Sc. ii. 

love, be moderate ; allay tliy ecstasy ; 

In measure rain thy joy; scant this excess. 

1 feel too much thy blessing: make it less, 
For fear I surfeit. 

Bass. What find I here? 

[Opening the leaden cashet. 
Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god ii5 
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? 
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips, 
Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar 
Should sunder snch sweet friends. Here in 120 

her hairs 
The painter plaj^s the spider, and hath woven 
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, 
Faster than gnats in cobwebs : but her eyes, — 
How could he see to do them? having made 

one, 
Methinks it should have power to steal both his 125 
And leave itself unfnrnish'd. Yet look, how 

far 
The substance of my praise doth wrong this 

shadow 
In underprizing it, so far this shadow 
Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the 

scroll, 
The continent and summary of my fortune. 130 
[Reads~\ You that choose not by the view. 

Chance as fair, and choose as true! 

Since this fortune falls to you, 



Act III. Sc. ii] OF VENICE. 107 

Be content and seek no new. 

S85 If you be well pleased with this, 

And hold your fortune for your bliss, 
Turn you where your lady is, 
And claim her with a loving kiss, 
A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave; 

MO I come by note, to give and to receive. 

Like one of two contending in a prize, 
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, 
Hearing applause and universal shout. 
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt 

145 Whether those peals of praise be his or no; 

So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so; 
As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by^you. 
Por. You see me. Lord Bassanio, where I stand, 

160 Such as I am : though for myself alone 

I would not be ambitious in my wish. 
To wish myself much better ; yet, for you 
I would be trebled twenty times myself; 
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand 
times 

165 More rich; 

That only to stand high in your account, 
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends. 
Exceed account ; but the full sum of me 
Is sum of something, which, to term in gross, 

160 Is an unlesson'd girl, iinschool'd, unpractised; 

Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
But she may learn ; happier than this, 



lt)& THE MERCHANT [Act IH. Sc. u 

She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit 
Commits itself to yours to be directed, i65 

As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, 170 
This house, these servants, and this same 

myself, 
Are yours, my lord : I give them with this ring ; 
Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 
Let it presage the ruin of your love. 
And be my vantage to exclaim on you. its 

Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words. 
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins ; 
And there is such confusion in my powers, 
As, after some oration fairly spoke 
By a beloved prince, there doth appear 180 

Among the buzzing pleased multitude; 
Where every something, being blent together, 
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy. 
Expressed and not express 'd. But when this 

ring 
Parts from this finger, then parts life from iss 

hence : 
0, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead! 
Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time. 

That have stood by and seen our wishes pros- 
per. 



Act III. Sc. ii.] OF VENICE. 109 

To cry, good joy : good joy, my lord and lady I 
190 Qra. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 
I wish you all the joy that you can wish; 
For I am sure you can wish none from me : 
And wnen your honours mean to solemnize 
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
195 Even at that time I may be married too. 

Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 
Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. 
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours: 
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid; 
soo You loved, I loved for intermissiouo 

No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
Your fortune stood upon the casket there. 
And so did mine too, as the matter falls ; 
For wooing here until I sweat again, 
805 And swearing till my very roof was dry 

With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, 
I got a promise of this fair one here 
To have her love, provided that your fortune 
Achieved her mistress. 
Por. Is this true, Nerissa? 

810 iVer. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. 
Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith? 
Gra. Yes, faith, my lord. 
Bass. Our feast shall be much honour 'd in your 

marriage. 
Gra. But who comes here? Lorenzo and his 
infidel? 
816 What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio? 



110 THE MERCHANT [Act HI. Sc. ii 

Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a Messenger 

from Veyiice. 
Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither; 

If that the youth of my new interest here 

Have power to bid you welcome. By your 
leave, 

I bid my very friends and countrymen, 

Sweet Portia, welcome. 
Par. So do I, my lord: 220 

They are entirely welcome. 
Lor. I thank your honour. For my part, my lord, 

My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 

But meeting with Salerio by the way, 

He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 225 

To come with him along. 
Saler. I did, my lord; 

And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 

Commends him to you. 

\^Gives Bassanio a letter. 
Bass. Ere I ope his letter, 

I pray yon, tell me how my good friend doth. 
SaUr. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; 280 

Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there 

Will show you his estate. 
Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger ; bid her welcome. 

Your hand, Salerio: what's the news from 
Venice? 

How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio? 235 

I know he will be glad of our success ; 

We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 



ACTIII. Sc. ii.] OF VENICE. Ill 

Saler. I would you had won the fleece that he 

hath lost. 
Pot. There are some shrewd contents in yon same 
paper, 
840 That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek: 

Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the 

world 
CouM turn so much the constitution 
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse! 
With leave, Bassanio; I am half yourself, 
845 And I must freely have the half of anything 

That this same paper brings you. 
Bass. sweet Portia, 

Here are a few of the unpleasant 'st words 
That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady, 
When I did first impart my love to you, 
250 I freely told you, all the wealth I had 

Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman; 
And then I told you true : and yet, dear lady, 
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see 
How much I was a braggart. When I told you 
25£ My state was nothing, I should then have 

told you 
That I was worse than nothing; for, inde?f^rl 
I have engaged myself to a dear friend, 
Engaged my friend to his mere enemy. 
To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady; 
260 The paper as the body of my friend. 

And every word in it a gaping wound. 
Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio? 



112 THE MEkCHANT [Act III. Sc. it 

Have all his ventures fail'd? What, not one 

hit? 
From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, 
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India? 265 

And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch 
Of merchant-marring rocks? 

Saler. Not one, my lord. 

Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
The present money to discharge the Jew, 
He would not take it. IS'ever did I know are 
A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
So keen and greedy to confound a man : 
He plies the Duke at morning and at night; 
And doth impeach the freedom of the state. 
If they deny him justice: twenty merchants, 275 
The Duke himself, and the magnificoes 
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him; 
But none can drive him from the envious plea 
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. 

Jes. When I was with him. I have heard him swear 28O 
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen. 
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
Than twenty times the value of the sum 
That he did owe him : and I know, my lord, 
If law, authority and power deny not, 285 

It will go hard with poor Antonio. 

Por. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? 

Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 
The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit 
In doing courtesies ; and one in whom 290 



Act III. Sc. ii.] OF VENICE. 113 

Tlie ancient Roman honour more appears 
Than any that draws breath in Italy. 
Por. What sum owes he the Jew? 
Bass. For me tln-ee thousand ducats. 
Por. What, no more? 

895 Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond; 

Double six thousand, and then treble that, 
Before a friend of this description 
Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
First go with me to church and call me wife, 

800 And then away to Venice to your friend ; 

For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
To pay the petty debt twenty times over : 
When it is paid, bring your true friend along. 

805 My maid !N"erissa and myself meantime 

Will live as maids and widows. Come, away! 
For you shall hence upon your wedding-day: 
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer i 
Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. 

810 But let me hear the letter of your friend. 

Bass, [reads'] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all 

miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate 

is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit ; 

and since in paying it, it is impossible I should 

818 live, all debts are cleared between you and I, 

if I might but see you at my death. Not- 
withstanding, use your pleasure: if your love 
do not persuade you to come, let not my 
letter. 



il4 THE MERCHANT [Act HI. So. iii. 

Por. love, dispatch all business, and be gone! 
Bass. Since I have your good lea^e to go away, 
I will make haste: but, till I come again, 
No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, 
No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain." 

[Exeunt, 



SCEI^E III. 

Venice. A street, 

Eriter Shyloch^ Salarino^ Antonio^ and Gaoler. 

Shy. Gaoler, look to him: tell not me of mercy; 
This is the fool that lent out money gratis : 
Gaoler, look to him. 

Ant. Hear me yet, good Shylock, 

Shy. I'll have my bond; speak not against my 
bond : 
I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. 5 
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a 

cause ; 
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs : 
The Duke shall grant me justice. I do won- 
der. 
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 
To come abroad with him at his request. m 

Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. 

Shy. I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak i 



ACTlII. Sc. iii.] OF VENICE. 115 

1*11 have my bond; and therefore speak no 

more. 
I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, 
IB To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 

To Christian intercessors. Follow not; 
I'll have no speaking: I will have my bond. 

[Exit 
Salar, It is the most impenetrable cur 

That ever kept with men. 
Ant. Let him alone: 

90 I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 

He seeks my life ; his reason well I know : 
I oft deliver 'd from his forfeitures 
Many that have at times made moan to me; 
Therefore he hates me. 
Solar. I am sure the Duke 

85 Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 

Ant. The Duke cannot deny the course of law: 
For the commodity that strangers have 
With us in Venice, if it be denied. 
Will much impeach the justice of his state; 
ao Since that the trade and profit of the city 

Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go: 
These griefs and losses have so bated me. 
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 
85 Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come 

To see me pay liis debt, and then I care not! 

]^Exeunt 



116 Tnni MERCHANT [Act III. So. iv. 



Scene IY. 
Belmont. A room in Portions house. 

Enter Portia^ Nerissa^ Lorenzo^ Jessica^ and 
Balthasar. 

Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, 
You have a noble and a true conceit 
Of god -like amity; which apoears most 

strongly 
In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
But if you knew to whom you show this hon- i 

our, 
How true a gentleman you send relief. 
How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
I know you would be prouder of the work 
Than customary bounty can enforce you. 

Por. I never did repent for doing good, U 

Nor shall not now: for in companions 
That do converse and waste the time together, 
Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, 
There must be needs a like proportion 
Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit; it 

Which makes me think that this Antonio, 
Being the bosom lover of my lord, 
Must needs be like my lord. If it be so. 
How little is the cost I have bestow 'd 



ACT III. Sc. iv.] OF VENICE. 117 

ao In purchasing the semblance of my soul 

From out the state of hellish misery! 
This comes too near the praising of myself; 
Therefore no more of it : hear other things. 
Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
35 The husbandry and manage of my house 

Until my lord's return: for mine own part, 
I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow 
To live in prayer and contemplation, 
Only attended by Nerissa here, 
SO Until her husband and my lord's return. 

There is a monastery two miles off; 
And there will we abide. I do desire yoit 
Not to deny this imposition; 
The which my love and some necessity 
85 Now lays upon you. 

Lor. Madam, with all my heart; 

I shall obey you in all fair commands. 
For, My people do already know my mind. 
And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. 
40 And so farewell, till we shall meet again. 

Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you! 
Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 
For. I thank you for your wish, and am well 
pleased 
To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica. 
[Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo^ 
«6 Now, Balthasar, 

As 1 have ever found thee honest-true, 



MS THE MERCHANT [Act IH. Sc. iv. 

So let me find thee still. Take this same 

letter, 
And use thou all the endeavour of a man 
In speed to Padua: see thou render this 
Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario; so 

And, look, what notes and garments he doth 

give thee, 
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed 
Unto the tranect, to the common ferry 
Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in 

words. 
But get thee gone: I shall be there bef'>re ss 

thee. 
BaltJi. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. 

For. Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand 

That you yet know not of; we'll see our hus- 
bands 
Before they think of us. 

iVer. Shall they see us? 

For, They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit, m 
That they shall think we are accomplished 
With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager. 
When we are both accoutred like young men, 
I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two. 
And wear my dagger with a braver grace, 6S 

And speak between the change of man and 

boy 
With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps 
Into a manly stride, and speak of frays 



Act III. Sc. v.] OF VENICE. 119 

Like a fine bragging youth; and tell quaint 
lies, 
30 How honourable ladies sought my love, 

Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 

I could not do withal: then I'll repent, 

And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd 

them; 
And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell, 
75 That men shall swear I have discontinued 

school 
Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind 
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
Which I will practise. 
Ker, Why, shall we turn to men? 

Por. Fie, what a question's that, 
30 If thou wert near a lewd interpreter! 

But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device 
When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
At the park-gate; and therefore haste away, 
For we must measure twenty miles to-day. 

\_Exeunt. 

Scene V. 

The same. A garden. 

Enter Launcelot and Jessica. 

Laun. Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the 
father are to be laid upon the children: there» 
fore, I promise ye, I fear you. I was always 



120 THE MERCHANT [Act III. Sc. v. 

plain with you, and so now T speak my agita- 
tion of the matter : therefore be of good cheer ; 5 
for truly I think you are damned. There is 
but one hope in it that can do you any good: 
and that is but a kind of bastard hope neither. 

Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee? 

Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that you are 10 
not the Jew's daughter. 

Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed : so 
the sins of my mother should be visited upon 
me. 

Lauii. Truly then I fear you are damned both by 15 
father and mother : thus when I shun Scylla, 
your father, I fall into Charybdis, your 
mother: well, you are gone both ways. 

Jes. I shall be saved by my husband.; he hath 
made me a Christian. 20 

Laun. Truly, the more to blame he: we were 
Christians enow before; e'en as many as could 
well live, one by another. This making of 
Christians will raise the price of hogs: if we 
grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly 25 
have a rasher on the coals for money. 

Enter Lorenzo. 

Jes, I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you 
say: here he comes. 

Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launce- 
lot, if you thus get my wife into corners. so 

Jes. ISTay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: Laun- 



Act III. Se. v.] OF VENICE. 121 

celot and I are out. He tells me flatly, there 
is no mercy for me in heaven, because I am a 
Jew's daughter: and he says, you are no 
35 good member of the commonwealth; for, in 

converting Jews to Christians, you raise the 
price of pork. 
Lor. I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn 
into silence ; and discourse grow commendable 
10 in none only but parrots. Go in, sirrah; bid 

them prepare for dinner. 
Laun. That is done, sir ; they have all stomachs. 
Lor. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! 
then bid them prepare dinner. 
45 Laun. That is done too, sir; only 'cover' is the 
word. 
Lor. Will you cover, then, sir? 
Lami. Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty. 
Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt 
50 thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an 

instant? I pray thee, understand a plain man 
in his plain meaning : go to thy fellows ; bid 
them cover the table, serve in the meat, and 
we will come in to dinner. 
55 Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for 
the meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your 
coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as 
humours and conceits shall govern. [Exit. 
Lor. dear discretion, how his words are suited! 
60 The fool hath planted in his memory 

An army of good words ; and I do know 



122 THE MERCHANT [Act HI. So. v. 

A many fools, that stand in better place, 
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
Defy the matter. How cheer 'st thou, Jessica? 
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, 65 

How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife? 

Jes. Past all expressing. It is very meet 
The Lord Bassanio live an upright life ; 
For, having such a blessing in his lady, 
He finds the joys of heaven here on earth; 70 
And if on earth he do not mean it, then 
In reason he should never come to heaven. 
Why, if two gods should play some heavenly 

match 
And on the wager lay two earthly women. 
And Portia one, there must be something else 75 
Pawn'd with the other; for the poor rude 

world 
Hath not her fellow. 

Lor. Even such a husband 

Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 

Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 

Lor. I will anon: first, let us go to dinner. ec 

Jes. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.. 

Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk; 

Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other 

things 
I shall digest it. 

Jes» Well, I'll set you forth. \^Exeunt 85 



Act IV. Sc.il OF VENICE 123 



ACT FOURTH. 

Scene I. 

Venice. A court of justice. 

Enter the Dulce, the Magnificoes^ Antonio^ Bas- 
saniOf Gratia?io, Salerio, and others. 

Duke, What, is Antonio here? 

Ant. Eeady, so please your Grace. 

Duke. I am sorry for thee: thou art come to 
answer 
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
From any dram of mercy. 

Ant. I have heard 

Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
His rigorous course; but since he stands 

obdurate. 
And that no lawful means can carry me 
Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 
My patience to his fury; and am arm'd 
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, 
The very tyranny and rage of his. 

Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 

Saler. He is ready at the door : he comes, my lord, 



124 THE MERCHANT [Act IV. So. a. 

Enter Sliyloch. 

"Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our 

face. 

Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 

That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy 
malice 

To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought 

Thou 'It show thy mercy and remorse more 20 

strange 
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty ; 
And where thou now exact 'st the penalty, 
Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, 
Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture. 
But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, 25 
Forgive a moiety of the principal; 
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses. 
That have of late so huddled on his back. 
Enow to press a royal merchant down, 
And pluck commiseration of his state 30 

From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint. 
From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never 

train 'd 
To offices of tender courtesy. 
We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 
Bhy. I have possess 'd your Grace of what I pur- 35 

pose; 
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 
To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 
If you deny it, let the danger light 
Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 



Act IV. Sc. i.] OF VENICE. 125 

40 You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have 

A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive 
Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that: 
But, say, it is my humour: is it answer'd? 
What if my house be troubled with a rat, 

45 And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats 

To have it baiied? What, are you answer'd 

yet? 
Some men there are love not a gaping pig; 
Some, that are mad if they behold a cat; 
And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the 
nose, 

60 Cannot contain their urine: for affection, 

Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 
Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your 

answer : 
As there is no firm reason to be rendered, 
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig; 

65 Why he, a harmless necessary cat ; 

Why he, a woollen bag-pipe; but of force 
Must yield to such inevitable shame 
' As to offend, himself being offended; 
So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 

60 More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing ' 

I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 
A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd? 
Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man. 
To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 

65 Shy. I am not bound to please thee with mj 
answer. 



126 THE MERCHANT [Act IV. Sc. L 

^^55. Do all men kill the things they do not love? 

Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill? 

Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. 

Shy, What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting 
thee twice? 

Ant, I pray you, think you question with the Jew: vo 
You may as well go stand upon the beach, 
And hid the main flood bate his usual height; 
You may as well use question with the wolf, 
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; 
You may as well forbid the mountain pines /s 
To wag their high tops, and to make no noise, 
When they are fretten with the gusts of 

heaven; 
You may as well do any thing most hard. 
As seek to soften that — than which .what's 

harder? — 
His Jewish heart : therefore, I do beseech you, so 
Make no more offers, use no farther means, 
But with all brief and plain conveniency 
Let me have judgement and the Jew his will. 

Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 

Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 8fe 

Were in six parts and every part a ducat, 
I would not draw them; I would have my 
bond. 

Dulce. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering 
none? 

Shy. What judgement shall I dread, doing no 
wrong? 



Act IV. Sc. i.] OF VENICE. 127 

90 You have among you many a purchased slave. 

Which, like your asses and your dogs and 

mules, 
You use in abject and in slavish parts, 
Because you bought them : shall I say to you, 
Let them be free, marry them_ to your heirs? 
95 Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds 

Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
Be season'd with such viands? You will 

answer 
'The slaves are ours :' so do I answer you: 
The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, 
100 Is dearly bought ; 'tis mine and I will have it. 

If you deny me, fie upon your law! 
There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
I stand for judgement : answer ; shall I have 
it? 
Duhe. Upon my power I may dismiss this court, 
105 Unless Bellario, a learned doctor. 

Whom I have sen6 for to determine this, 
Come here to-day. 
galer. My lord, here stays without 

A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
New come from Padua. 
110 DtiJce. Bring us the letters; call the messenger. 
Bass. Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage 
yet! 
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, 

and all, 
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 



128 THE MERCHANT [Act IV. Sc, i. 

Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 

Meetest for death : the weakest kind of fruit lis 
Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me: 
You cannot better be employ 'd, Bassanio, 
Than tp live still, and write mine epitaph. 

Enter Nerissa^ dressed like a laivyer''s clerk. 

Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario? 

Ner. From both, my lord, Bellario greets your 120 

Grace. {Presenting a letter, 

Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? 
Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt 

there. 
Qra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal 

can, 
No, not the hangman's axe, oear half the 125 

keenness 
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce 
thee? 
Shy. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make, 
Qra. 0, be thou damn'd, inexecrable dog! 
And for thy life let justice be accused. 
Thou almost makest me waver in my faith, 130 
To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
That souls of animals infuse themselves 
Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit 
Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human 

slaughter. 
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, i35 



Act IV. Sc. i] OF VENICK 129 

And, whilst thou lay'st in thy nnhallow'd dam, 
Infused itself in thee; for thy deshes 
Are wolvish, bloody, starved, and ravenous. 
Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, 

140 Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud: 

Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
To cureless ruin. I stand here for law. 
Duhe. This letter from Bellario doth commend 
A young and learned doctor to our court. 

145 Where is he? 

Ner. ' He attendeth here hard by, 

To know your answer, whether you'll admit 
him. 
Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four 
of you 
Go give him courteous conduct to this place. 
Meantime the court shall hear Bellario 's letter. 

150 Clerk, [reads] Your Grace shall understand that 
at the receipt of your letter I am very sick : 
but in the instant that your messenger came, 
in loving visitation was with me a young 
doctor of Rome; his name is Balthasar. I 

155 acquainted him with the cause in controversy 

between the Jew and Antonio the merchant; 
we turned o'er many books together: he is 
furnished with my opinion; which, bettered 
with his own learning, — the gi'eatness whereof 

160 I cannot enough commend, — comes with him, 

at my importunity, to fill up your Grace's 
request in my stead. I beseech you, let his 



130 THE MERCHANT [Act IV. So. i. 

lack of years be no impediment to let him lack 
a reverend estimation; for I never knew so 
young a body with so old a head. I leave him le,*- 
to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall 
better publish his commendation. 
Duke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he 
writes : 
And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 

Enter Portia for BaWiasar. 

Give me your hand. Come you from old ^rc 
Bellario? 

Par. I did, my lord. 

Duhe. You are welcome : take your place. 

Are you acquainted with the difference 
That holds this present question in the court? 

Por. I am informed throughly of the cause. 

Which is the merchant here, and which the '7r 
Jew? 

Duhe. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 

Por. Is your name Shylock? 

Shy. Shylock is my name. 

Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow 
~^ Yet in such rule that the Venetian law 

Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. n 

You stand within his danger, do you not? 

Ant. Ay, so he says. 

Por. Do you confess the bond? 

Ant. 1 do. 

Por. Then must the Jew be merciful 



Act IV. Sc. i] OF VENICE. 131 

Shy. On what compulsion must I? tell me that» 

185 For. The quality of mercy is not strain'd, 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice blest ; 
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 

ISC The throned monarch better than his crown; 

His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; 

195 It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 

It is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, 

200 That, in the course of justice, none of us 

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to 

render 
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 
To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; 

aos Which if thou follow, this strict court of 

Venice 
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant 
there. 
Sliy, My deeds upon my head! I crave the law. 

The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 
Por. Is he not able to discharge the money? 

810 Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court; 



132 THE MERCHANT [Act IV, Sc. i 

Yea, twice the sum : if that will not suffice, 

I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, 

On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart: 

If this will not suffice, it must appear 

That malice bears down truth. And I beseech 21B 

you. 
Wrest once the law to your authority: 
To do a great right, do a little wrong, 
And curb this cruel devil of his will. 

For. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice 
O^n alter a decree established : . age 

'Twill be recorded for a precedent. 
And many an error, by the same example, 
Will r!ish into the state: it cannot be. 

Shi/, A Daniel come to judgement! yea, a Daniel! 
wise young judge, how I do honour thee I 22& 

Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 

Sht/. Here ^tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. 

Por. Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer 'd 
thee. 

Shi/. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven: 
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? 23C 

No, not for Venice. 

Por, Why, this bond is forfeit; 

^"~~And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful: 
Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 233 

8hi/. When it is paid according to the tenour. 
It doth appear you are a worthy judge; 



Act IV. Sc. i.] OF VENICii I >3 

You know the law, your exposition 

Hath been most sound: I charge you by tbe 
law, 
240 Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, 

i?rcceed to judgement: by my soul " £.vear 

There is no power in the tongue of man 

To alter me: I stay here 0:1 my bond. 
Ant, Most heartily I do beseech the court 
845 To give the judge Tient. 

Por. Why then, thus it i?' 

'***" Yo'i must prepare your bosom for his knife. 
Shy. noble judge! excellent young marJ 
Por. For the intent and purpose of the law 
^"^ Hath full relation to the penalty, 
^50 Which here appet :eth due upon the bor'l. 

Shy. 'Tis very true: wise and upright jitdge! 

How much more elder art thou than thy looks'. 
Por. Therefore lay bare your bosom. 
Shy. ' Ay, his breast 

So says the bond: — doth it not, noble judge? — 
855 'Nearest his heart:' those are the very words, 

Por. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh 

The flesh? 
Shy. I have them ready. 

Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your 
^ charge, 

To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. 
260 Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond? 

Por. It is not so express 'd: but what of that? 

'Twere good you do so much for charity. 



134 THE MERCHANT [Act IV, Sc. i. 

SJuj. I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond. 

Por. You, merchant, have you any thing to say? 

Ant. But little: I am arm'd and well prepared. 265 
Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well! 
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you; 
For herein Fortune shows herself n;!ore kind 
Than is her custom: it is still her use 
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 270 
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 
An age of poverty; from which lingering 

penance 
Of such misery doth she cut me off. 
Commend me to your honourable wife: 
Tell her the process of Antonio's end; sn 

Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death; 
And, when the fale is told, bid her be judge 
Whether Bassanio bad not once a love. 
Repent but you that you shall lose-^your friend, 
And he repents not that he pays your debt; aso 
For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 
I'll pay it presently with all my heart. ^ 

Bass. Antonio, 1 am married to a wife 
Which is as dear to me as life itself; 
But life itself, my wife, and all the world, 285 
• Are not with me esteem'd above thy life; 
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
Here to this devil, to deliver you. 

Por. Your wife would P^ive you little thanks for 
that, 
Tf she were bv, to hear vou make the offer. 290 



Act iV 8c. i] OF VENICE. 135 

Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love: 
I would she were in heaven, so she could 
Entreat some power to change this currish 
Jew. 
Ner, 'Tis well you offer it behind her back ; 
295 The wish would make else an unquiet house. 

Shy, These be the Christian husbands. I have a 
daughter ; 
Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! 

[Aside. 
We trifle time: I pray thee, pursue sentence. 
300 Pot , A pound of that same merchant's flesh is 
thine : 
The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 
Shy. Most rightful judge! 

For. And y^u must cut this flesh from off his 
breast : 
The law allows it, and the court awards it. 
805 &hy. Most learned judge! A sentence! Come, 
prepare ! 
Por, Tarry a little; there is something else. 
~ This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; 
The words expressly are *a pound of flesh:' 
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of 
flesh; 
810 But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 

One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and 

goods 
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 



136 THE MERCHANT [Act IV. Sc. t 

Unto the state of Venice. 

Qra. upright judge! Mark, Jew: learned 
judge! 

Shy, Is that the law? sis 

Por, Thyself shalt see the act : 

For, as thou urgest justice, be assured 
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou 
def5irest. 

Gra. learned judge! Mark, Jew: a learned 
judge! 

Shy, I take this offer, then; pay the bond thrice, 
And let the Christian go. sao 

Bass, Here is the money. 

Pon Soft! 

The ^Qw shall have all justice ; soft ! no haste : 
He shall have nothing but the penalty. 

Gra. Jew! an upright judge,, a learned judge! 

Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 82^ 
Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less nor 

more 
But just a pound of flesh: if thou cut'st more 
Or less than a just pound, be it but so much 
As makes it light or heavy in the substance, 
Or the division of the twentieth part 331 

Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 
But in the estimation of a hair, 
Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate. 

Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew! 

Now, infidel, I have you on the hip, 335 

Por. Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture. 



Act IV. Sc. i.] OF VENICE. 137 

Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go. 
Bass. I have it ready for thee; here it is. 
For. He hath refused it in the open court: 
^40 * He shall have merely justice and his bond, 
Gra. A Daniel, still say 1, a second DanLl! 

I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that 
word. 
Sliy. Shall I not have barely my principal? 
Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture, 
845 To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 

Shy. Why, then the devil give him good of it I 

I'll stay no longer question. 
Por. Tarry, Jew: 

"""^ The law hath yet another hold on you. 

It is enacted in the ^aws of Venice, 
8S0 If it be proved against an alien 

That by direct or indirect attempts 

He seek the life of any citizen, 

The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 

Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half 
8S5 Comes to the privy coffer of the state; 

And the offender's life lies in the mercy 

Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 

In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st; 

For it appears, by manifest proceeding, 
iUjo That indirectly and directly too 

Thou hast contrived against the very life 

Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd 

The danger formerly by me rehearsed. 

Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke 



138 THE MERCHANT [Act IV. Sc. i 

Gra, Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang 868 
thyself : 

And yet, thj wealth being forfeit to the state, 

Thou hast not left the value of a cord; 

Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's 
charge. 
Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our 
spirits, 

I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it : 870 

For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 

The other half comes to the general state, 

Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 
For. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. 
Shy. Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that: 875 

You take my house when you do take the 
prop 

That doth sustain my house; you take my life 

When you do take the means whereby I live. 
Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio? 
Gra. A halter gratis ; nothing else, for God's sake. 880 
Ant. So please my lord the Duke and all the court 

To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 

I am content ; so he will let me have 

The other half in use, to render it, 

Upon his death, unto the gentleman aSI 

That lately stole his daughter : 

Two things provided more, thatj for this 
favour. 

He presently become a Christian; 

The other, that he do record a gift, 



ACT IV. So. i.j OF VENICE. \ J9 

890 Here in the court, of all he dies possess 'd, 

Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 
DuJce. He shall do this, or else I do recant 

The pardon that I late pronounced here. 
Por. Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou 
say? 
395 Shy. I am content. 

Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 

Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence; 
I am not well: send the deed after me, 
And I will sign it. 
Duhe. Get thee gone, but do it. 

Gra. In christening shalt thou have two god- 
fathers : 
4oe Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had 

ten more, 
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font, 

[Exit SJiylocJc. 
Duhe. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 
Por. I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon: 
I must away this niglit toward Padua, 
«05 And it is meet I presently set forth. 

Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. 
Antonio, gratify this gentleman. 
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 
[Exeunt Duke and his train, 
Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
ua Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 

Of grievous penalties ; in lien whereof, 
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 



140 THE MERCHANT [Ajt lY. Sc i. 

We freely cope yonr courteous pains withal. 
Ani. And stand indebted, over and above, 

In love and service to you evermore. 415 

Por, He is well paid that is well satisfied; 

And I, delivering you, am satisfied, 

And therein do account myself well paid : 

My mind was never yet more mercenary. 

I pray you, know me when we meet again: 420 

I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 
Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you 
further : 

Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 

Kot as a fee : grant me two things, I pray you, 

Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 425 

For. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. 

Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your 
sake; [To Ant. 

And, for your love, I'll take this ring from 
you: [To Bass. 

Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no 
more ; 

And you in love shall not deny me this. 430 

Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle! 

I will not shame myself to give you this. 
Por. I will have nothing else but only this ; 

And now methinks I have a mind to it. 
Bass. There's more depends on this than on the 435 
value. 

The dearest ring in Venice will Tgive you. 

And find it out by proclamation : 



ActIV. Sc. i.] OF VENICE. 141 

Only for this, I prayyoii, pardon me. 
Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: 
440 You taught me first to beg ; and now methinks 

You teach me how a beggar should be 
answer 'd. 
Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife; 
And when she put it on, she made me vow 
That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. 
445 For. That 'souse serves many men to save their 
gifts. 
An if your wife be not a mad-woman, 
And know how well I have deserved tho ring, 
She would not hold out enemy for ever, 
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you I 
[Exeunt Portia and Nerissa. 
450 Ant. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring: 
Let his deservings and my love withal 
Be "valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. 
Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him; 

Give him the ring; and bring him, if thoD 
canst, 
455 Unto Antonio's house: away! make haste. 

[Exit Gratiano. 
Come, you and I will thither presently; 
And in the morning early will we both 
Fly toward Belmont : come, Antonio. 

[Exeunt. 



142 THE MERCHANT [Act IV. Sc. ii 



SCEKE II. 

The same. A street. 

Eyiter Portia and Nerissa. 

Por, Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this 
deed 
And let him sign it : we'll away to-night 
And be a day before our husbands home: 
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 

Enter Gratiano. 

Gra. Eair sir, you are well o'erta'en: ^ 

My Lord Bassauio upon more advice 
Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat 
Your company at dinner. 

Per, That cannot be: 

His ring I do accept most thankfully : 
And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore, lo 
I pray you, show my youth old Shylock*8 
house. 

Gr i. That will I do. 

Ncr, Sir, I would speak with you. 

I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, 

[^Aside to Portia, 
Which I did make him swear to keep for 
«ver 



Act IV. Sc, ii.) OF VENICE. 143 

16 Por, [Aside to JSfer.l Thou mayst, I warrant. We 
shall have old swearing 
That they did give the rings away to men ; 
Bufc we'll outface them, and outswear them 

too. 
[Aloud] Away! make haste: thou know'st 
where I will tarry. 
Ner, Come, good sir, will you show me to this 
house? lExeunL 



i^ THE MERCHANT [Act V- So. i 



ACT FIFTH. 

SCEIS^E I. 

Belmont. Avenue to Portions house. 
Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 

Lor, The moon shines bright: in such a night ad 
this, 
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees 
And they did make no noise, in such a night 
Troilus me thinks mounted the Troy an walls, 
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
Where Oressid lay that night. 

Jes. In such a night 

Did This be fearfully o'ertrip the dew, 
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, 
And ran dismay'd away. 

Lor, In such a night 

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 
Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her love 
To come again to Carthage. 

Jes. In such a night 

Medea gather 'd the enchanted herbs 
That did renew old -^son. 

Lor, In such a night 



ACT V. Sc. i.] OF VENICE. I4d 

a Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, 

And with an unthrif t love did run from Venice 
As far as Belmont. 
Jes, In such a night 

Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, 
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith 
4G And ne'er a true one. 

Lor, In such a night 

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 
Jes I would out-night you, did no body come; 
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 

Enter Stephana . 

23 Lor, Who comes so fast in silence of the night? 
Steph. A friend. 
Lor. A friend! what friend? your name, I pray 

you, friend? 
Steph. Stephano is my name; and I bring word 
My mistress will before the break of day 
so Be here at Belmont : she doth stray about 

By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
For happy wedlock hours. 
Lor, Who comes with her! 

Steph, None but a holy hermit and her maid. 
I pray you, is my master yet returned? 
35 Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him 
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
And ceremoniously let us prepare 
Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 



146 THE MERCHANT [AcT V. Sc. i 

Enter Launcelot, 
Laun. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola! 
Lor, Who calls? ei 

Laun. Sola ! did you see Master Lorenzo? Master 

Lorenzo, sola, sola! 
Lor. Leave hollaing, man: here. 
Laun. Sola! where? where? 

Lor, Here. « 

Lau7i. Tell him there's a post come from my mas- 
ter, with his horn full of good news: my 
master will be here ere morning, [Exit* 

Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their 
coming. 
And yet no matter : why should we go in? m 
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, 
"Within the house, your mistress is at hand; 
And bring your music forth into the air. 

[Exit Stephano* 
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this 

bank ! 
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music S6 
Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: 
There's not the smallest orb which thott m 

behold 'st 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; 
Such harmony is in immortal souls: 



Act V. Sc. i.] OF VENICE. 147 

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
35 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 

Enter Musicians. 

Come, ho ! and wake Diana with a hymn : 
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress 

ear, 
And di-aw her home with music. [Music, 

Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 
7© Lo7\ The reason is, your spirits are attentive: 
For do but note a wild and wanton herd. 
Or race of youthful and unhaiidled colts. 
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing 

loud. 
Which is the hot condition of their blood; 
75 If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 

Or any air of music touch their ears, 
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,. 
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze 
By the sweet power of music: therefore the 

poet 
80 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and 

floods ; 
Since nought so stockish, hard and full of 

rage. 
But music for the time doth change his nature. 
The man that hath no music in himself, 
Kor is not moved with concord of sweet 

sounds, 
85 Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; 



148 THE MERCHANT [Act V, S«- I. 

The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 

And his affections dark as Erebus : 

Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. 

Enter Portia mid Nerissa, 

Par, That light we see is burning in my hall. 

How far that little candle throws his beams ! m 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world, 

Ker, When the moon shone, we did not see the 
candle. 

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less : 
A substitute shines brightly as a king, 
Until a king be by; and then his state 95 

Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
Into the main of waters. Music! hark! 

Ner, It is your music, madam, of the house. 

Por, Nothing is good, I see, without respect : 

Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. 100 

Ner, Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. 

Por, The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, 
When neither is attended; and I think 
The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 
When every goose is cackling, would be 109 

thought 
No better a musician than the wren. 
How many things by season season 'd are 
To their right praise and true perfection ! 
Peace, ho ! the moon sleeps with Endymion, 
And would not be awaked. [^Music ceases, 110 

t^r. That is the voice, 



Act V. Sc. i.] OF VENICE. 149 

Or I am much deceived, of Portia. 
Por. He knows me as the blind man knows the 
cuckoo, 
By the bad voice. 
Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. 

Por. "We have been praying for our husbands' 
healths, 
116 Which speed, we hope, the better for our 

words. 
Are they return 'd? 
Lor. Madam, they are not yeti 

But there is come a messenger before, 
To signify their coming. 
Por. Go in, Nerissaj 

Give order to my servants that the^ take 
120 No note at all of our being absent hence; 

Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. 

\^A hichet sounds. 
Lor. Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet : 

We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. 
Por. This night methinks is but the daylight sickf 
125 ' It looks a little paler : 'tis a day, 

Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 

' Enter Bassanio^ Antonio, Gratiano., and their 

followers. 

Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 

If you would walk in absence of the sun. 
Por, Let me give light, but let me not be light ; 
wo For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 



150 THE MERCHANT [Act V. So. i 

And never be Bassanio so for me : 
But God sort all! You are welcome home, 
my lord. 

Bass. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my 
friend. 
This is the man, this is Antonio, 
To whom I am so infinitely bound. iss 

For, You should in all sense be much bound to 
him, 
Tor, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 

Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. 

For. Sir, you are very welcome to our house i 

It must appear in other ways than words, 140 

Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 

Gra. [To Wei'issa} By yonder moon I swear you 
do me ^^Tong; 
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk: 

For, A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter? 

Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 145 

That she did give me, whose posy was 
For all the world like cutler's poetry 
Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.' 

Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value? 

You swore to me, when I did give it you, !50 

That you would wear it till your hour of death, 
And that it should lie with you in your grave: 
Though not for me, yet for your vehement 

oaths, 
You should have been respective, and have 
kept it. 



Act V. So. i.l OF VENICE. 151 

155 Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge, 

The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that 
had it. 
Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. 
Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 
Gra. Is"ow, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 
•60 A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy, 

No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk, 
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee : 
I could not for my heart deny it him. 
Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with 

you, 

«S5 To part so slightly w^th your wife's first gift; 

A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger 
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. 
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 
Never to part with it; and here he stands; 
ViQ I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it 

Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
That the world masters. Now, in faith^ 

Gratiano, 
You give your wife too unkind a cause of 

grief: 
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 
ITS Bass. l^Asidel Why, I were best to cut my left 
hand off. 
And swear I lost the ring defending it. 
Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away 

Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed 
Deserved it too ; and then the boy, his clerk, 



lo2 THE MERCHANT [ActV, Sc. i. 

That took some pains in writing, he begg'd i8o 

mine ; 
And neither man nor master would take aught 
But the two rings. 

Por, What ring gave you, my lord? 

Not that, I hope, which you received of me. 

Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 

I would deny it; but you see my finger i8S 

Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone, 

Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 
Until I see the ring. 

Ner. I Nor I in yours 

Tiii I again see mine. i9o 

Bass. Sweet Portia, 

If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
If you did know for whom I gave the ring, 
And would conceive for what I gave the ring, 
And how unwillingly I left the ring. 
When nought would be accepted but the ring, 195 
You would abate the strength of your dis- 
pleasure. 

Por, If you had known the virtue of the ring, 
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 
Or your own honour to contain the ring, 
You would not then have parted with the ring. 200 
What man is there so much unreasonable, 
If you had pleased to have defended it 
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
To urge the thing held as a ceremony? 



Act V. Sc. i.] OF ^:feNICE. 153 

«05 Nerissa teaches me what to believe : 

I'll die for 't but some woman had the ring, 
Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul, 
No woman had it, but a civil doctor. 
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, 
810 And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny 

him, 
And suffer 'd him to go displeased away; 
Even he that did uphold the very life 
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet 

lady? 
I was enforced to send it after him; 
215 I was beset with shame and courtesy ; 

My honour would not let ingratitude 
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady; 
For, by these blessed candles of the night. 
Had you been there, I think you would have 
begg'd 
220 The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 

Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house: 
Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, 
And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
I will become as liberal as you ; 
225 I'll not deny him any thing I have. 

Ner. Nor I his clerk ; therefore be well advised 

How you do leave me to mine own protection. 
Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. 
Por. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome not* 
withstanding. 
?30 Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong*, 



154 THE MERCHANT [Act V. Sc. i 

And, in the hearing of these mauy friends, 
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 
Wherein I see myself, — 

Por. Mark you but that! 

In both my eyes he doubly sees himself ; 
In each eye, one : swear by your double self, 235 
. And there's an oath of credit. 

Bass, Nay, but hear me: 

Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear 
I never more will break an oath with thee. 

Ant, I once did lend my body for his wealth ; 

Which, but for him that had your husband's 240 

ring, 
Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, 
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
Will never more break faith advisedly. 

Por. Then you siiall be his surety. Give him this, 
And bid him keep it better than the other. 245 

Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this ring. 

Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! 

Por. I had it of him. You are all amazed : 
Here is a letter ; read it at your leisure ; 
It comes from Padua, from Bellario: 250 

There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 
Nerissa there her clerk : Lorenzo here 
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you. 
And even but now return'd ; I have not yet 
Enter 'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome; 255 
And I have better news m store for you 
Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ; 



ActV. Sc. i.] OF VENICE. 155 

There you shall find three of your argosies 
Are richly come to harbour suddenly: 
no You shall not know by what strange accident 

I chanced on this letter. 
Ant, Sweet lady, you have given me life and 
living; 
For here I read for certain that my ships 
Are safely come to road. 
Por, How now, Lorenzo! 

865 My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 

Ner, Kj^ and I'll give them him without a fee. 
There do I give to you and Jessica, 
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, 
After his death, of all he dies possess 'd of. 
870 Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
Of starved people. 
Por. It is almost morning. 

And yet I am sure you are not satisfied 
Of these events at full. Let us go in ; 
And charge us there upon inter 'gator ies, 
W5 And we will answer all things faithfully. 

Qra. Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing 
So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. 

[Exeunt. 



NOTES. 



ACT I. 

I. i. 3. Came by it. Cf . I. ii. 9. 

I. i. 8. Ocean. See p. 35. 

I. i. 27. Andrew. The name of the ship which Salarino 
imagines that he owns. A common name for vessels, possi- 
bly after the apostle Andrew, or after Andrea Doria, a 
famous Genoese admiral of the sixteenth century. 

I. i. 35. And., in a wo7-d, hut even now worth this, etc. 
The words omitted can be easily supplied. This evidently 
refers to the riches which Salarino has enumerated above. 

I. i. 40. To think upon. At thinking of. See Abbott's 
Shakespearian Orammar § 356. Cf . I. i. 127 and p. 39. 

I. i. 47. jS^ot . . . neither. A double negative. See Abbott 
§ 406 and p. 42. 

I. i. 50. Janus. The god was represented with two faces, 
one laughing, one sad. 

I. i. 52. Peep through their eyes. Look through eyes h,alf 
closed as in laughter. 

I. i. 54. Other. Plural. See Abbott § 12. Aspect. For 
the accent see p. 36. 

I. i. 61. Prevented. See p. 37. 

I. i. 62. Your worth is very dear, etc. " I esteem you 
highly." A conventional compliment. 

I. i. 67. Exceeding strange. ''You are becoming quite 
strangers. Must this be so?" or "Must you go?" — the latter 
in reference to their intended departure. 

I. i. 74 Have too much respect upon the world. Are too 
much preoccupied with worldly interests. 

I. i. 79. Play the fool, i.e., the part of the fool in the drama 
of life. 

I. i. 80. Old wrinkles. The wrinkles of age. See p. 40. 

156 



NOTES. 157 

I. i. 89. Do cream and mantle^ etc. Assume a mask, as 8 
pond conceals itself beneath a mantle of slime. 

I. i. 93. As who should say. Who is used for one who. See 
Abbott § 257, and cf. I. ii. 50. 

I. i. 98. The subject is omitted before would. See p. 41. 

I. i. 99. Call their brothers fools. See Matthew v. 22. 

I. i. 101. Melancholy bait. Cf. I. i. 80. 

I. i. Ill, 112. To be read as a jingle, with four accents to 
the line. 

I. i. 126. Continuance. Omission of preposition. See 
Abbott § 394, and p. 38. 

I. i. 127. To be abridged. Cf . I. i. 40. 

I. i. 138. Within the eye of honour. Within the scope of 
honor's vision; honorable. 

I. i. 145. Childhood proof. Childhood is, of course, used 
the meaning being "proof or experience of 

Richly left. See p. 40. 

Golden fleece. Cf . III. ii. 237. 

I have a mind presages, etc. Omission of relative. 

Of my trust. On my credit. See p. 38. 
JSfo mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the 
In the "golden mean" of moderate fortune. 
Weeping philosopher. Heraclitus. 
By. About. Seep. 38. 

Proper man^s picture. Dr. Furness supports the 
conjecture that this should be read "proper man's-picture," 
in which case proper would have the force of "perfect." 
Otherwise it is as usual, "handsome." 

I. ii. 86. Scottish. Changed in the folio to other to avoid 
giving offence to James I. 

I. ii. 92. Sealed under for another. Promised another box 
on the ear to the Englishman. An allusion to the old 
friendship between Scotland and France. 
I. ii. 104. Should. Would. See Abbott § 322. 
I. ii. 120. Sibylla. The Cumaean Sibyl, promised by 
Apollo as many years as the grains of sand which she held. 
Ovid, Metamorphoses xv. 
I. ii. 125. I pray God. The folio has I wish them, to con- 



ganitively, 


youth 


M 


I. i. 


162. 


I. i. 


171. 


I. i. 


176. 


See p. 


42. 


Li. 


186. 


1. ii. 


7,8. 


mean. 


Int 


I. ii 


. 53. 


I. ii. 


59. 


I. ii, 


. 80. 



15^ NOTES. 

form to the law of 1605 for tlie preventing of the great 
abuse of the holy name of God." 

I. iii. 1. Ducats. The ducat varied in value in different 
countries. The Venetian ducat was a coin worth about 
one dollar and twelve cents. To get the modern equivalent 
we should multiply by eight or ten. 

I. iii. 20. Rialto. The exchange of Venice was called the 
Rialto, from the name of the island on which it was situated. 
This island is the largest and highest of those on which 
Venice is built. Its name may be derived from i^ivo altOy 
"high bank." 

I. iii. 35. The Nazarite conjured the devil into. See Luke 
viii. 32, 33. In the early translations of the Bible Nazarite is 
regularly used for "Nazarene." 

I. iii. 42. Publican. Consider whether Shakspere can 
have had in mind Luke xviii. 10-14. 

I. iii. 47. Upon the hip. At a disadvantage : a figure used 
in wrestling. 

I. iii. 60. Best you fair. A conventional greeting, equiva- 
lent to " God give you repose." Cf. " God rest you merry" 
As You Like It V. i. 65, and II. ii. 79. 

I. iii. 64. Mipe wants. Wants that have reached matur- 
ity, that admit no delay. 

I. iii. 75. Possessor, i. e., of the promise made to Abraham. 

I. iii. 82. Me. See Abbott § 220. The dative in such 
cases as this merely calls attention to the speaker, and 
is equivalent to "mark me," or "I tell you." Cf. 141 
below, and p. 39. 

1. iii. 131. A breed for barren metal. The folio reads of in 
place of for. The meaning in any case depends on the com- 
parison between the increase of live stock, cited by Shylock 
above, and "interest," the increase bred from barren 
metal. 

I. iii. 133. Who if he break. From whom, if he break. 

I. iii. 141. Seal me. Here the me is strictly an ethical 
dative to be rendered "for me," or " in my behalf . " See 
Abbott § 220, and p. 39. 

I; iii. 142. Single. Without sureties. 

I. iii. 158. Teaches. An old plural form. See Abbott 
§333. 



NOTES 159 

I. iii. 160. Break his day. Fail to pay on the day fixed. 
I. iii. 163. Note the extra syllables before the pause, 
to be slurred in reading. See p. 34. 



ACT II. 

The stage direction in the folio is as follows: "Enter 
Morochus a tawnie Moore all iii white, and three or four 
followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa, and their 
traine. Flo. Cornets." 

II. i. 7 Heddsst. Eed blood was regarded as a sign 
of bravery. 

II. i. 14. Nice direction. Critical guidance. 

II. i. 25. Sophy. The title of the emperor of Persia. 

II. i. 26. Solyman. Sultan of Turkey 1520-1566. 

II. i. 32. Lichas. The pa^e of Hercules. Play at dice 
which, etc. An unusually daring ellipsis. See p. 41. 

II. i. 35. Page. Rage in the quartos and folios. 

II. i. 46. Blest or cursed'st. Cf. III. ii. 289, and p. 41. 

11. ii. 19. Something smack, i. e., smacked a little of dis- 
honesty. Grow to. "A household phrase applied to milk 
when burnt to the bottom of the saucepan, and thence 
acquiring an unpleasant taste." [Clarendon.] 

II. ii. 26. God blesa the mark. A phrase used conven- 
tionally to excuse a harsh or unpleasant word. Professor 
Child suggested the derivation from Ezekiel ix. 4-6. 

II. ii. 30. Incarnal. A blunder for "incarnate." See 
confusions, etc., below for similar bits of fun. 

II. ii. 40. High-gravel blind. Launcelot finds a degree of 
blindness between " sand-blind" and " stone-blind." 

II. ii. 57. Well to live. Sure of a long life. 

II. ii. 59. What a* will. A colloquial form of "what he 
will." 

II, ii. 61. The only point here is the old man's refusal to 
allow the title. 

II. ii. 62. Ergo. Therefore. "Because he is my friend 
he should be Master." 

II. ii. 79. God rest his soul. Cf . I. iii. 60 



160 NOTES. 

II, ii. 101. Lord worshipped might he be! The Lord be 
worshipped! 

II :i. 102. What a heard, etc. Launcelot has knelt with 
his back to his father. 

II. ii. 107. Of. On. 

II. ii. 113. Set up my rest. Decided; a term in use in 
games of cards where the player stakes his venture or rest 
on the cards which he holds. Of. " Since you set up your 
rest 'gainst remedy " AlVs Well, II. i. 13^. 

II. ii. 118. Give me your present. Another case of the 
ethical dative. Cf. I. iii. 141. 

II. ii. 161. The old proverh. " God's grace is gear enough." 

II. ii. 170. Table, etc. The palm of the hand which is 
exposed in taking an oath on the Bible. 

II. ii. 173. Line of life. In palmistry, the line which 
encircles the ball of the thumb. " Long and deep lines from 
the Mount of Venus towards the line of life signifieth 
30 many wives." Saunders'. Chiromancie, quoted by Dr. 
Purness. 

II. iii. 10. Exhibit. Either " speak instead of," or else a 
blunder for "prohibit" or " inhibit," 

II. iv. 5. Us. Dr. Purness favors the change to as, sug- 
gested by Pope. If this be rejected, us is an ethical dative. 
Cf. I. iii. 141. 

II. iv. 10. Break up this. Break the seal of this letter. 

II. iv. 33, Note the ellipsis before What gold, etc. See 
p. 41. 

II. V. 18. To-night. Last night. Cf. Julius Caesar III. 
iii. 1. 

II, V. 30, Reproach. Launcelot' s blunder for approach. 

II. V, 25, Black-Monday. Easter Monday, so called from 
t-hat day 1360 when King Edward III, lay outside of Paris 
and many of his men died of cold, 

II. V, 30, Wry-neck'' d fife. The epithet may refer either to 
the instrument, or to the player. Cf, trumpet for trumpeter. 

II, V. 43, Jewess\ Polios and quartos read Jewes or 
Jisiys' which may be the better reading, "Worth a Jew's 
eye" was a proverb, the reference being to the price which 
a Jew would pay to avoid mutilation. 

TI vi. 5, 6, 7. See p. 41. In spite of the incomplete 



i^OTES. 161 

construction the meaning is clear, if the two meanings ol 
fast, ^'rapidly" and " strongly," are kept in mind. 

II. vi. 9. Cases of the omission of the preposition in rel- 
ative sentences. See p. 38, and Abbott § 394. 

II. vi. 14. YounUer. Youth. A change from yonger in old 
editions. 

II. vi. 24. See p. 35. 

II. vi. 35. Exchange. Explained by line 39. 

II. vi. 43. Office of discovery. "The torch-bearer's ofl&ce 
is to discover, but I ought to I'emain concealed." 

II. vi. 51, By my hood. Probably the hood of the dress 
worn by the speaker. Gentile. The folio has gentle, a reading 
which calls attention to the pun. 

II. vii. 4. Who. For the interchangeable use of who and 
which, see Abbott § 264. 

II. vii. 26. Be'st. Indicative in form but subjunctive in 
meaning. See Abbott § 298. 

II. vii. 41. Hyrcanian deserts. The country south of the 
Caspian. 

II. vii. 51.. For the accent of obscure see p. 36. 

II. vii. 53. Ten times undervalued. Silver in Elizabeth's 
reign was worth about one-tenth its weight in gold. 

n. vii. 56. Angel. An English coin, worth about two 
dollars and a half, bore the figure of St. Michael piercing 
the dragon stamped, or as it were, insculped, upon it, 

II. vii. 69. Tombs. Johnson's emendation for timber. 

II. viii. 33. You were best. Originally the you was 
dative, and the construction impersonal — "it were best for 
,you." 

II. viii. 42. Mind of love. Of love may have the force of 
"loving," a frequent construction in Shakspere; or, accord- 
ing to Professor Gummere, it may be taken objectively, 
"mind bent upon love." Cf. II. v. 37. 

II. ix. 18. Hazard. May be either noun or verb. Cf . Ill, 
ii. 2. 

II. ix. 26. By. For. See p. 38. 

II. ix. 61. To offend and judge, etc. The line may be taken 
in two senses. It may be Portia's excuse for not answering 
the question, and assuming the function of judge; or it may 
be a protest against Arragon's assuming to judge his own 



162 NOTES. 

case after the offence of his choice. The latter is more 
probable. 

II. ix. 68. I wis. The adverb ywis, "certainly," came to be 
used as subject and verb, equivalent to " I know." 

ACT III, 

III. 1. 4. The Ooodwins. The Goodwin Sands, off the coast 
of Kent. 

III. i. 21. Lest the devil cross my prayer, i. «., thwart it. 

III. 1. 37. Rebels it. Salanio pretends to think that Shy- 
lock is referring to his own body. 

IIL i. 43. Bed wine and rhenish, i. e., red wine and white. 

III. i. 97. Hearsed. Prepared for burial. The hearse 
was originally a triangular frame which was placed above 
the body to hold candles. Later the term came to be use^ 
for the frame which supported the pall, and then for the 
marble slab placed above the body. 

III. i. 135. Me. Ethical dative. 

III. ii. 7. Lestj etc. The thought is left incomplete, and 
the next line gives the reason, viz., because a maiden can 
not speak of such matters. Portia then returns to her orig- 
inal desire to postpone Bassanio's trial. 

III. ii. 20. Prove it so. If it prove that I am not yours. 

III. ii. 27. Treason. The suggestion of treason comes 
from Bassanio's mention of the rack on which traitors 
were tortured. 

III. ii. 29. Fear. Fear for. See Abbott § 200; and of. 
III. V. 3. 

III. ii. 44. Swan-like end. An allusion to the belief that 
the dying swan had the power of song. 

III. ii. 55. Alcides. An allusion to Hercules' s rescue of 
Hesione, daughter of Laomedon, king of Troy, from the 
monster to which her father was compelled by Neptune to 
sacrifice her. Hercules' s reward was the famous pair of 
horses belonging to Laomedon, not the love of the lady. 

III. ii. 56. Virgin tribute. Cf. I. i. 80. 

III. ii. 61. The second tnuch is omitted in the folio. It is 
oot necessary to the metrical effect of the line. 

III. ii. 81. Vice. The first folio has voice, changed to vice 



NOTES. 163 

in the second. Simple. Schmidt personifies vice, and explains 
simple as "witless," "silly," 

III. ii. 84. Stall's. The folio has stayers, which is ex- 
plained in the sense of " supporters." 

III. ii. 86. Livers white as milk. A sign of cowardice. 

in. ii. 94. Upon supposed fairness. ' ' Surmounting ficti- 
tious beauty." [Clarendon.] 

III. ii. 97. Guiled. See p. 40. 

III. ii. 99. Veiling an Indian heauty, i. e., a beauty which, 
according to European standards, is no beauty at all. The 
passage has been variously explained. 

III. ii. 102. Hard food for Midas. An allusion to the 
Phrygian king whose touch turned everything to gold. 

III. ii. 106. Paleness . It has been suggested that Shaks- 
pere wrote plainness. 

III. ii. 112. ' Rain. Or rein, as quartos 3 and 4 have it. 

III. ii. 126. TJnfurnishPd. Unmated. 

III. ii. 140. By note. According to the directions in the 
note or scroll. 

III. ii. 159. Something. Emendation for nothing of the 
folio. 

III. ii. 192. . From me. Away from me. 

III. ii. 200. A more intelligent pointing places a semi- 
colon after I loved, in which case intermission has its usual 
meaning of "delay." Otherwise for must be understood as 
"for fear of," and the next line by itself means that Gratiano 
owes no more to his own efforts than to Bassanio's happy 
choice. 

III. ii. 274. Impeach the freedom. Cast doubts upon the 
reputation of the state for granting freedom, i. e. , equality, 
to all. 

III. ii. 289. Unwearied. See p. 41. 

III. ii. 298. The additional syllable may be gained by 
making hair dissyllabic, or by prolonging through. See 
p. 35. 

III. iii. 27. For the commodity, etc. If strangers be de- 
prived of their privileges (commodity) it will cast doubt upon 
the justice of the state. See p. 41. 

III. iv. 6. How true a gentleman, etc. Cf. I. 1. 126. 
Modern English would allow the dative without to if the sen- 



164 NOTES. 

tence were transposed: "You send a true gentleman 
relief." 

III. iv. 25. Manaje. For "management." See Abbott 
§ 451. 

III. iv. 30. Cf. II. i. 46, and p. 41. 

III. iv. 49. Padua. Theobald's emendation for Mantua. 

III. iv. 52. Imagined. Of imagination. See p. 40. Per- 
haps " all imaginable." See Abbott § 375. 

III. iv. 72. I could not do withal. I could not help it. 

III. V. 3. Fear you. Fear for you. See Abbott § 200. 

III. V. 4. Agitation. Evidently for "cogitation." 

III. V. 49, Quarreling with occasion. Seeking to turn the 
word from the matter in question. 

III. V. 64. Cheer'' St. What cheer? Equivalent to How 
far^at thou of the quarto. 

III. V. 71. Mean it, then. The folio has it for then. Mean 
ft =" mean to lead an upright life"; or else, as suggested, 
"observe moderation in his happiness." The latter is far- 
fetched. 

ACT IV. 

IV. i. 8. Obdurate. For the accent see p. 36. 
IV. i. 37. Bue and forfeit. Forfeit which is due. 
IV. i. 39. Upon your charter. Cf . III. ii. 274. 

IV. i. 50. For affection., mistress of j^itssion. The folio has 
no stop after urine, and a period after affection. It reads 
■masters for mistress. All these changes were suggested by 
Dr. Thielby in Theobald's edition. Affection seems to bear 
the sense of "disposition," or possibly "prejudice." Fa«- 
gion = "feeling." 

IV. i. 56. Woollen. The meaning can only be guessed at. 
Possibly the epithet refers to the covering of the instru- 
ment; possibly the word should be wawling. 

IV. i. 68. Offence. In its subjective meaning of "resent- 
ment," as in the idiom "take offence." 

IV. i. 76. And to make no noise. The clause may be taken 
as depending on forbid, in which case it is an instance of a 
double negative ; or an ellipsis may be recognized before it. 

IV, 1. 77. Fretten. The reading of the quartos. The folio 
has fretted. 



N0TE8. ' 165 

IV. i. 82. Brief and plain conveniency. Convenient 
brevity and plainness. The relation of adjective and noun 
seems inverted. See p. 40. 

IV. i. 128. Inexecraljle. Changed in the third folio to in- 
exorahle, for which it is probably a misprint. 

IV. i. 134. FfTio, hanged. The construction is explained by 
Abbott § 376 as a nominative absolute, to be rendered "and 
when he was hang'd." 

IV. i. 142. Cureless. The folios read endless. 

IV. i. 163. Impediment to let him lack. Professor Gum- 
mere suggests that the repetition of let him lack may be 
a printer's error. Otherwise this passage must be regarded 
as elliptical: " such as to cause him to lack.'' 

IV. i. 185. The quality of mercy, etc. The nature of mercy 
Is not such that it acts under constraint. 

IV. i.l87. Blest. Cf. Ill ii. 97, and p. 40. 

IV. i. 224. Daniel. See the History of Susannah in the Old 
Testament Apocrypha. 

IV. i. 249. Hath full relation. Is clearly applicable. 

IV. i. 256. Balance. The plural ending is omitted. Cf. 
waft in V. i. 11. 

IV. i. 273. A difficult line to read. The later folios 
supply a before misery. 

IV. i. 276. Speak me fair. Speak well of me. 

IV. i , 279. But. The folio has not. But is the reading of 
the quartos. 

IV. i. 282. Presently. Instantly in the folio. 

IV. i. 332. Estimation of a hair. Quantity to be estimated 
by a hair. 

IV. i. 335. On the hip. Cf. T. iii. 47. 

IV. i. 390. Of all he dies possessed. Cf. I. i, 125. 

IV. i. 400. Ten more. To make a jury. 

IV. i. 432. To give you this. Cf. I. i. 40, and p. 39. 

IV. i. 452, For the metre see p. 35. 



ACT V. 

V. i. 4. Troilus. In Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde^ 
Troilus, the son of Priam, is made the lover of Criseyde, the 



166 ■ NOTES. 

daughter of the Greek soothsayer Calchas. A line in 
Chaucer's poem gave the suggestion for the passage: 

"Upon the walles faste eke wolde he walke." Bk. v. 666. 

V. i. 7. ThiBhe. It has been pointed out that Shakspere 
was probably indebted to Chaucer for this reference and the 
two following: See Legende of Goode Women, Parts ii. iii. 
iv. He may have found the story of Pyramus and Thisbe 
in Ovid Metamorphoses iv. See any classical dictionary. 

V. i. 10. Dido. Cf. Vergil, Aeneid. Hunter suggests that 
* 'Shakspere has transferred to Dido what he found in 
Chaucer's 'Legend' concerning Ariadne." Cf, Legende of 
Goode Women vi. lines 309 et seq. 

V. i. 11. Waft. Wafted or waved. A case of absorption 
of the final ed lor euphony. Cf. King John II. i. 73. 

V. i. 13. Medea. The account of Medea's renewing the 
youth of ^Eson is not given in Chaucer's Legende. Gower 
{CoJifessio Amantis Bk. v.) has a description of the sorceress 
gathering herbs by moonlight. See also Ovid Meta- 
morphoses vii. 

V. i. 37. Dr. Furness notes the adverbial hypallage. 
" Let us prepare a ceremonious welcome," etc. Cf. line 277. 

v. i. 53. Music. Musical instruments. 

V. i. 59. Patines. Patines or pattens were plates, often of 
gold, used in the ceremony of the eucharist. Di*. Furness 
thinks the reference is not to the stars, but to broken clouds, 
bright in the moonlight. The first folio reads pattens, follow- 
ing quartos 2 and 3. The first quarto gives patients, and the 
second folio, patterns. If the last reading should be 
adopted the reference would be to the constellations. 

V. i. 61. Like an angel sings. Cf. Job xxxviii. 7, "The 
morning stars sang together." For the music of the spheres 
see also Plato, Republic x. According to Plato the heavenly 
bodies moved about the earth in eight successive spheres. 
"Upon each circle stands a siren who travels round v/ith the 
circle, uttering one note in tone ; and from all eight there 
results a single harmony." See Dr. Furness's note in the 
Variorum. 

V. i. 63. Such harmony. Corresponding to the harmony 
of thp spheres is that of the human sou). 



NOTES. 167 

V. i. 99. Respect. "Regard to circumst nces," or, perhaps, 
"attention." 

v. i. 103. Attended. The same doubt as above. "When 
neither is attended by fitting circumstances," or simply, 
*' attended to, listened to." 

V. i. 109. For Endymion, see a classical dictionary. 

V. i. 129. For the play on the word cf . II. vi. 42 ; III. 
ii. 91. 

V. i. 167. For the metre see p. 35. 

V. i. 204. To urge. "So much as to urge you to give," 
etc. 

V. i. 208. Civil doctor. Doctor of civil law. See p. 40. 

V. i. 240. Which. Body is the antecedent. 

V. i. 359. Richly. See above on V. i. 37, and cf. I. i. 182. 



GLOSSARY. 



Abode: stay. 



— II. vi. 21. Carrion: skeleton. 



Abridged: restricted. — I. i. 127. 
Accomplished: furnistied. 

—III. iv. 61. 

Address' d: prepared. — II. ix. 19, 

Advantage: interest. — I. iii. 71. 

Advice: consideration. — IV. ii. 6. 

Advised: careful. — I. i. 143. 

considerate. —V. i. 226. 

Advisedly: deliberately. —V. i. 243. 

AflPection: interest. —I. i. 16. 

disposition.— I. ii. 37,41; 

IV. i. 50; V. i.87. 

An: if. —I. ii. 99; II. ii. 65. 

Anon: at once. — II. ii. 128, 

Appropriation: addition. —I. ii. 47. 

Argosies: large merchantmen. 

The word is derived from Ragusa, 

a Mediterranean port with which 

England carried on a large trade. 

—I. i. 9; I. iii. 18; III. i. 109. 

Attempt: tempt. — IV. i.422. 

Baned : killed. —IV. i. 46. 

Bated: weakened. —III. iii. 32. 

Become: befit. —V. i. 57. 

Beholding: beholden. — I. iii. 102. 

Beshrew: curse. 

—II. vi. 52; III. ii. 14. 

Best-conditioned: of best charac- 
ter. —III. ii. 289. 

Bestow'd: placed. — II. ii. 183. 

Bottom: vessel. — I. i. 42. 

Break: fail in keeping his agree- 
ment. 
—I. iii. 133; I. iii. 160; III. i. 124. 

Break up : break open. II, i v. 10. 

Breath : language. —II. ix. 90. 

Breathing: verbaL —V. i. 141. 



IILicSf 



A carrion death -= a skull. 

—II. vii. 63. 

Cater-cousins : "remote relations.'* 

Misused by Launcelot for "mess* 

fellows," [Schmidt,] —II. ii. 141. 

Cerecloth : shroud. —II. vii. 51, 

Ceremony: sacred object. 

—V. i. 204. 

Charge: expense. — IV. i. 258. 

Cheer: countenance. — III. ii. 308. 

Circumstance: ceremony, circum* 

locution. Cf . As You Like It V. iii. 

10, " the lie with circumstance.' 

—I. i. 155. 

Close: secret. —II. vi. 47, 

Cold: unwelcome. Cf. Tvx) GenU 

of Verona II. i-*- 186.— II. vii. 73. 

Commends: recommendations, 

-II. ix, 90. 
Commodity: merchandize. 

—I. i. 179. 
convenience. 

—III. iii, 27. 
Complexion: color. 

—II. i. 1; TI. vii. 79. 
natm-e. — III. i. 31. 
Compromised: bound in agree- 
ment. —I. iii, 7a, 
Conceit: mental faculty. — I. i. 92. 
conception. — III. iv, 2. 
fancy. —III. v. 58. 
Condition: character. — I. ii. 146. 
quality. — V. i. 74. 
Confound: destroy. — III. ii, 272. 
Contain: retain, — V. i. 199. 
Continent: container, — III. ii. 130. 
Contrive: plot. —IV. i. 353, 361. 
Convenient: proper. — III. iv. 5* 



168 



GLOSSARY. 



16S 



Conveniently: properly. 

—II. viii. 45 
Cope: reward. —IV. i. ^13. 

Counterfeit: portrait. —III. ii. 115. 
County: Count. —I. ii. 49. 

CoTer: wear a hat (as a mark of 
equality). —II. ix. 44. 

lay the table. —III. v. 45, 53. 

Danger: control. — IV. i. 181. 

Dardanian: Trojan. —III. ii. 58. 
Disabling: undervaluing. 

—II. vli. 30. 

Discharge: pay. — IV. i. 209. 

Doublet: the quilted or wadded coat 

of the period. —I. ii. 82. 

Drive: bring, commute.— IV. i. 373. 

Eaning: bearing. — I. iii. 84. 

Eanlings: lambs just born. 

—I. iii. 80. 

Election : choice. —II. ix. 3. 

Enow: a form of enough, properly 

plural. —III. V. 22; IV. i. 29. 

Entertain: keep up. —I. i. 90. 

Envious: malicious. — III. ii. 278. 

Envy: malice. —IV. i. 10; 126. 

Equal : exact. —I. iii. 146. 

Erebus: the lower world. —V. i. 87. 

Estate: situation. —III. ii. 232, 312. 

rank, dignity. —II. ix. 41. 

Estimation: worth. — II. vii. 26 

respect. — IV. i. 164. 

Excrement: beard. — III. ii. 87. 

Faltliless: unbelieving. —II. iv. 38. 
Fall: let fall, bring forth. 

—I. iii. 85. 
Fancy: love. —III. ii. 63. 

Fashion: form, appearance. 

—IV. i. 18. 
Fear'd: frightened. — II. i. 9. 

Fearful: causing apprehension, 

—I. iii. 172 
Fill-horse: thill or 3haft horse. 

—II ii. 104. 
Fleet: fly. —III. ii. 108; IV. i. 135. 



Flight : range or power of flight. 

—I. i. 142 
Fond: foolisn. —II. ix. 27; III. iii. L 
Fool: foolish. —I. i. 102. 

Forth: out. — I. i. 15, 144; II. v. 11, 
Fraught: freighted. —II. viii. 30. 
Fretten: fretted or chafed. 

—IV. i. 77 
Fulsome: wanton. —I. iii. 83, 



Gaberdine: a loose cloak like £ 
shepherd's frock. —I iii. 109. 

Garnish: equipment. — II. vi. 45, 

Garnish' d: furnished or clothed. 
—III. V. 63 

Gaged: pledged. — I. i. 131, 

Gear: matter. —I. i. 110; II. ii. 179. 

Glean' d: separated. — II. ix. 46. 

Gramercy: a conventional excla- 
mation from the French grandi 
mercie, great thanks. — II. ii. 131. 

Gratify: requite. — IVo i. 407. 

Guarded: trimmed, ornamented, or 
perhaps hemmed, to prevent tear- 
ing. —II. ii. 167, 



Habit: conduct. —II. ii. 202. 

dress. —III. iv. 60. 

Heaviness : sadness. — II. viii. 52. 

Heavy: sorrowful. —V. i. 130. 

High-day: holiday, and hence rare. 

Cf. Merry Wives III. ii. 69. 

—II. ix. 98. 

Hose: trousers. — I. ii. 83. 

Humility? kindness, humanity. 

—III. i. /4. 
Husbandry: stewardship. 

—III. iv. 25. 



Impeach: disparage, cast doubt 
upon. —III. ii. 274; iii. 29. 

Imposition: Injunction. 

—1. li. 117; III. iv. 33. 

Impugn: oppose. ^IV. i. 180, 

Innocence: "artleasness bordering 
on silliness." [Schmidt.]— J i. 346. 



170 



GLOSSARY. 



Judgment: sentence. 

- IV. i. 83, 89, 103, 241, 245. 

Jump: agree, Cf. Twelfth Night 

Vo i. 259. —II. ix. 32. 

Kept: dwelt, Cf. Macbeth V. iv. 9. 
—III. iii. 19. 

Knapped: snapped, broken into 
pieces or perhaps nibbled, 
gnawed. —III. i. 10. 

Leave: part from. —V. i. 148, 170. 

licvel: aim, guess. Cf. " She level 'd 
at our purposes" A.ntony and 
Cleopatra V. ii. 339. —I, ii. 42. 

Liberal: "free," or perhaps "licen- 
tious." [Schmidt]. Cf. Hamlet IV. 
vii. 171. —II. ii, 197, 

Light: in the modern sense of friv- 
olous. —II. vi. 42; III. ii. 91. 

Likely: pleasing. —II. ix. 92. 

Livings: possessions. 

— III.ii.l57; V.i.262. 

Lodged: settled. — IV. i. 60, 

Lover: friend. —Ill, iv. 7. 

Magniflcoes: chief citizens of 

Venice, Cf . Othello, I. ii. 12. 

—Ill, ii. 276. 
Match: bargain. — III. i, 46, 

Mere: absolute, — III. ii. 258. 

Methinlfs: it seems to me, from A. 

S, thincan== to seem, not from 

thencan = to think, 

—I. iii. 70; IV. i. 434,440, 
Mind: desire, intention. Mind of 

feasting forth, desire to sup 

abroad, —II. v. 37; IV. i, 434, 

Miscarried: perished. 

—II. viii. 29; III. ii. 312; V. i. 242, 
Moe: more. — I. i, 108. 

Moiety: part. Cf. Zear 1.1. 6. 

—IV. i. 26. 
Mortifying: in its literal senSe of 

causing death. —I, i, 82. 

Mutual : common. —V. i. 77, 

Naughty: wicked. 

— III. ii,18;ili. »: V. 91, 



Neat's: horned animal's.— I. i. 112 
Nominated: appointed. 

—I. iii. 146; IV. i. 260. 

Obliged: pledged. —11. vi. 7. 

Occasion: need. —I. i. 140. 

the matter in hand, 

—III, V. 49. 
O'er-look'd: bewitched,— III. ii. 15. 
Offices: deeds, — IV. i..33. 

Old: used intensitively, like 
"great" or "fine." —IV. ii. 15. 

Opinion: reputation. —I. i. 91, 102. 
Ostent: external show. 

— II. ii.208; II. viii. 44. 

Pageants: the great wagons used 
to transport stage and actors 
through the streets in the primi- 
tive days of the drama. The word 
came to be applied to the spectacle 
itself. — I. i, n. 

Pardon: remit. — IV. i. 370, 375. 
Part: depart, —II. vii. 77^ 

separate, —III. ii. 173, 185, 
Parts: offices, —IV. i. 92. 

qualities. —II. ii. 194. 

Passion: outcry. —II. viii. 12. 

feeling. —IV. i. 51, 

Patch: fool, a term derived from 
the parti-colored dress worn by 
i'ools. —II. v. 46. 

Pawn'd: put at stake. —III. v. 76. 
Peize: retard, from the French 
peser, to weigh. — III. ii. 22. 

Pent-house: a shed sloping from a 
building, —II. vi. 1. 

Pled: spotted. —I. iii, 80. 

Pleasure: do a favor. —I. iii. 7. 

Plots: plans, —I. i. 134. 

Port : bearing, state. —I. i. 125, 

importance, — III. ii. 277, 
Possess'd: informed. 

—I. iii. 65; IV. i. 35 
Posy: the verse inscribed in a ring. 
—V, i, 146. 
Preferment: promotion. 

-II. ii. 158. 



GLOSSARY. 



171 



Preferr'd: recommended. 

—II. ii. 158. 
Presently: immediately. 

—I. i. 184: IV. i. 282. 
Prest: ready, French pret.—l. i. 161. 
Prevented: anticipated. Cf. Ham- 
let HAL "iQB. " So sli all my antici- 
pation prevent your discovery." 
— I.i.61. 
Prize: contest for a prize. 

—III. ii. 141. 
Purse: put in a purse. —I. iii. 171. 

Qualut: ingenious. — III. iv. 69. 
Quaintly: cleverly, neatly. Cf. 
Hamlet II. i. 31. —II. iv. 6. 

Qualify: modify. —IV. i. 7. 

Quality: manner. — III. ii. 6. 

nature, character. 

—IV. 1.184. 

Question : trial. — IV. i. 173. 

speech. —IV. i. 73, 347, 

talk with. —IV. i. 70. 

Quiring: singing in concert. 

—V. i. 62. 

Rated : scolded. ^I. iii. 104^ 

Reason'd: spoke. — II. viii. 27. 

Eegreets : greetings. —II. ix. 89. 

Remorse: pity. — IV. i.20. 

Repent: sorrow. —IV. i. 279. 

Respective : considerate. — V. i. 154. 

Rib: enclose. Cf. Cymbeline 111. 

1. 19. —II. vii. 51. 

Riplng: ripening, maturing. 

—II. viii. 40. 
Road: port. — I. i. 19. 

Sad : grave. —I. i. 1, 40; II. ii. 208. 

Sadness: soberness. 

—1. 1.6; II. ii.54. 

Sand-blind: partly blind as if with 
sand in the eyes. The original 
may have been sam-blind, i. «., half 
blind. —II. ii. 39, 81. 

Scant: moderate. 

— III. ii.ll2; V. i. Hi. 

Scanted: limited. -II. 1. 17. 



Scarfed: adorned with flags. 

—II. vi. 15. 
Scrubbed: stunted. — V. i. 160. 

Season'd: recommended, made 

agreeable. —III. ii. 76; V. i. 107. 
Seasons: tempers. —IV. i. 198. 

Self: same. —I i. 149. 

Sense: respect. —V. 1.136. 

Sensible: full of feeling.— II. viii. 48. 
tangible. —II. ix. 89. 

Sentences : maxims. — I. ii. U. 

Shrewd: evil. —III. ii. 239. 

Sirrah: a contemptuous form of 

Sir. —I. ii. 150. 

Skipping: flighty, wanton. See 

Twelfth Night I. v. 214.— II. ii. 199. 
Slubber: slur over. —II. viii. 39. 
Something: somewhat. 

— I. i, 125; II. ii. 19, 197. 
Sontles: "sante or sanctity" 

[Schmidt] or, more probably, 

"saints." —II. ii. 49. 

Sooth: truth. —I. i. 1 ; II. vi. 42. 
Sort: n. "way," possibly "lot." 

—I. ii. 117. 

V. dispose. —V. i. 132. 

Sped: dispatched. Cf. Borneo and. 

Juliet 111. i,94.— II. ix. 72. 
Squandered: scattered.— I. iii. 22. 
State: fortune, estate. 

— III. ii. 255; V. i. 95 
Stead: help. —I. iii. 7. 

Still: ever, always. 

—I. i. 17; I. i. 137; I. iii. 106; III. 

ii. 74. 
Straight: straightway. 

—I. i. 31 ; I. iii. 171. 
Strain'd: constrained.— IV. i. 184. 
Stratagems: dreadful deeds. —V. 85- 
Studied: practiced. — II. ii.208. 

Substance: gross weight.— IV. i. 329. 
Sufferance: patience. 

—I iii. 107; III. i. 76. 

Suited : apparelled. — I. ii. 82. 

arranged. —III. v. 59. 

Supposition: conjecture. —I. iii, 18. 



Thought: anxiety. 



— I.i.36. 



173 



GLOSSARY. 



Thrift J success. —I. 1. 176. 

profit. Cf. " "Where thrift 

may follow fawning," Hamlet III. 

11.67. — I.iii.51,87. 

Thrive: prosper. 

— I. lil.86; II. vii.60. 
Time: life. Cf. " The soundest of 
his time hath been but rash." 
Lear I. i. 298. —I, i. 130. 

Touches: " the acts of the hand on 
a musical instrument." Schmidt. 
—V. i. 57, 67. 
Tranect: ferry. Probably a cor- 
ruption of the Italian traghetto. 

—III. IV. 63. 

Trxiths honesty. — IV. i.214. 

Tucket; a flourish on a trumpet. 

—v. i. 121. 

Unchecked: undenied. — III. i,2. 
Untread: retrace. Cf. Venus and 
AdoniSf 908. —II. vi. 10. 

Usance: interest. —I. iii. 46, 105. 
Use: usufruct, present possession. 
—IV. i. 384. 

?"ailing: lowering. Cf. "Vailed 
lids," Hamlet I. ii. 70 —I, L 28. 



Varnish'd: painted or maskea. 

—II. V. sa 

Vasty: waste, desolate. Cf. Henry 
Fifth II. iv. 105. —II. vii. 41, 

Very: true. —II. 11.115; III. ii. 219, 

often placed before sub. 

stantives to indicate that they 

must be taken in an unrestricted 

sense. —III. ii. 36, 219; IV. i. 13. 

Via: (Italian) away. — II. ji.ll. 

Virtue: power. — V. i. 197. 

Wanton: sportive. 

—III. Jl. 93; V. 71. 
Want-wit: idiot. — I. i.6. 

Waste: spend. —III. iv. 12. 

Wealth: welfare. -V. i. 239. 

Where: whereas. —IV. i. 22. 

Wit : intellectual power, judgment. 
—II. 1. 18.; III. ix. 81. 
Withal: with it. 
—II. vii. 12; IIL 11. 210; III. iv. 72. 
together with. —IV. i. 451. 
with. 
—111.1.29,56: IV, 1. 413 
Wroth: wrath, or perliaps ruth 
misfortune. — II. ix. 78 



APPENDIX 

(Adapted largely from the Teacher's Manual for the 
Study of English Classics, by George L. Marsh) 

HELPS TO STUDY 

THE DRAMA 

In what did the drama originate? 

Describe briefly the miracle plays, or ' ' mysteries, ' ' tell- 
ing where they were performed, by whom, and what, in 
general, was their subject matter (pp. 8, 9). 

What elements were contained in the miracle plays that 
had an influence toward the development of comedy? 

What were moralities? Interludes? 

What foreign influences contributed to the development 
of the Elizabethan drama (pp. 10-12) ? 

Name several of Shakspere's predecessors in the drama. 
Who was the greatest of them? 

Describe briefly the theater of Shakspere's day (pp. 
13, 14). The characteristics of an Elizabethan audience. 
Did Shakspere write his plays for posterity or to please 
an audience of his own time? 

shakspere's career 

When and where was Shakspere born? 
What can you say as to his education (p. 4) ? His occu- 
pations before he went to London? 

What do we know about his early years in London? 
What were his first dramatic efforts (p. 15) ? What 

173 



174 APPENDIX 

other literary work, besides the writing of plays, did he 
do? 

Learn the general characteristics of Shakspere 's work 
during each of the four periods into which it is divided, 
and the names of representative plays of each period 
(pp. 15-17). 

Perry Pictures 73-75 have to do with Shakspere and 
his home. 

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE — DATE AND SOURCES 

What is the method employed in determining the date 
of Shakspere 's plays (pp. 18 ff.) ? How is it applied to 
The Merchant of Venice? What is the probable date of 
composition ? 

Are Shakspere 's plots usually original with him? What 
are the probable sources of the plot of this play? 

Show how the pound-of-flesh story differs from its 
Italian form in II Pecorone (p. 21) and how the casket, 
story is changed from the tale in the Gesta Eomanorum 
(p. 24). How does Shakspere make one plot of the two 
stories? 

What is the source of the Launcelot Gobbo and the 
Lorenzo-Jessica stories (p. 25) ? 

Determine for yourself the time action of the play. 
Do you agree with what is said on page 32? 

DEVELOPMENT OF THE PLOT 

L Does the discussion of Antonio's argosies in I, i, 
foretell his later ruin? 

What function have Salanio and Salarino? 

What dramatic purpose does the character of Gratiano 
serve? How is the purpose brought out in the first act? 

How are the relations between Antonio and Bassanio 
brought out in the first scene? 

What exposition is given in the second scene (pp. 53 



APPENDIX 175 

ff.) ? What device is used for describing the suitors. 
How does Bassanio stand? 

Has there been any mention of the bond previous to 
the third scene? Does this scene help the plot or is it 
a scene of character exposition? 

Explain Shylock's attitude toward Antonio (p. 60). 

What warning note is struck (p. 65) ? 

Sum up the extent to which the plot is unfolded in 
Act I. 

II. How does Launcelot Gobbo connect the two main 
stories? What other function has he? 

Can you justify the length of scene iii? What does 
it accomplish? 

Does Shylock have any intimation of the treachery of 
his daughter (p. 80) ? Why has Shylock parted with 
Launcelot ? 

Is scene viii a scene of action or of description? 

How have matters been '^ complicated " in Act II f 
How has the plot been advanced? 

III. Where does Antonio's downfall begin? Who 
started the rumor that Antonio's ships were wrecked? 

Note Shylock's warning (p. 98). Notice how he jumps 
at any word of Antonio's distress (p. 100). Is Tubal 
sympathetic or is he purposely vexing Shylock? 

What plot is brought to an end in scene ii and what two 
new plots begin (11. 74, 196) ? 

When does the news of Antonio's misfortune reach 
Bassanio ? 

What does scene iii accomplish in the plot? What new 
incident does scene iv introduce? How does scene v 
retard the action? 

IV. Why did not Antonio escape? 
Why does Gratiano speak (p. 128) ? 

Why do we pay no attention to the improbability of 
Portia's disguise? 



176 APPENDIX 

Why is the panegyric on mercy introduced (p. 131) ? 

Why does Portia lead Shylock to believe that he will 
win his case? 

When does she make the fatal revelation as to the 
drop of blood? 

How are the threads of the other plots taken up after 
Shylock 'a *'exit"? 

What zest is given to the end of IV, i, by the fact that 
the players were boys (cf. Lake Classics edition of Julius 
Caesar, p. 23)? 

Suppose the play ended with Act IV, v/hat effect would 
it have? (Edmund Kean — and others — omitted the fifth 
act.) 

V. The main plot and the most important sub-plot 
have been finished at the end of Act IV, What remains 
for Act V? 

Note the exquisite lyric poetry of scene i, and mem- 
orize the encomium on music (p. 146). 

How is the ring story introduced? What ending has it? 

What do you think of the ending of the play? - 

THE PLOT IN GENERAL 

Why does Antonio borrow money of Shylock, his par- 
ticular enemy (I, i, 130; I, iii, 65)? 

How does Shakspere make it seem probable that such 
an absurd bond should be proposed? 

What was Shylock 's purpose concerning the bond when 
it was first proposed (I, iii, 48) ? Was his purpose modi- 
fied in any way before the bond was fulfilled? 

In what different ways is the story of the rings helpful 
to the play? 

How are the conditions to which Arragon swears (p. 
91) to be enforced? 

What do you think of the wit of Launcelot Gobbo? 

Is there any excuse for Jessica's treatment of her 



APPENDIX 177 

father, or for not paying Shylock the money that Antonio 
and Bassanio had borrowed from him? 

For what moral lesson does Shakspere use the casket 

story? 

THE FORM OF THE PLAY 

What is the meter in which Shakspere 's dramas were 
Avritten ? 

What are the chief variations from the normal line 
(pp. 34-36)? 

What is the rule generally observed in the use of blank 
verse and prose? 

Find examples of and explain grammatical peculiarities, 
such as are explained on pages 38-42. 

THEME SUBJECTS 

1. Shakspere 's life (pp. 3-7). 

2. The drama before Shakspere (pp. 7-13). 

3. The stage of Shakspere 's time (with illustrations 
of how different parts of this play were presumably 
staged; e. g., p. 83). 

4. The bond story and its source (pp. 21-24). 

5. The casket story and its source (pp. 24, 25). 

6. The story of Jessica and its source (pp. 25, 26). 

7. Synopses of various acts or scenes, or of episodes 
indicated in Selections for Class Eeading below. 

8. Character sketches of the leading personages, 
especially Shylock, Antonio, Portia, Bassanio, Launcelot 
Gobbo. 

9. A defense of Shylock. 

10. Some moral lessons from the play. 

11. The tragic element in this play. 

12. The purpose of the last act (pp. 29, 144 ff,). 

13. Shylock and Isaac (see theme subjects for Ivan- 
hoe). 



178 APPENDIX 

14. Another way of concluding the trial scene. 

15. Antonio's friends. (Are thej differentiated from 
one another? Have they distinct individualities?) 

16. Portia's suitors. (Apply questions just given.) 

17. Compare Bassanio to fortune hunters that seek 
American heiresses today. 

18. Portia was an intellectual woman. Would she 
have been in favor of woman's suffrage? 

SELECTIONS FOE CLASS READING 

Passages particularly worth reading aloud or acting 
in the classroom are as follows : 

1. Antonio and his friends (pp. 45-49). 

2. Bassanio and Antonio (pp. 50-52). 

3. Portia on her suitors (pp. 53-57). 

4. Antonio and Shylock (pp. 60-65). 

5. Portia and Morocco (pp. 66-68, 85-88). 

6. Launeelot Gobbo and his father (pp. 68-74). 

7. Portia and Arragon (pp. 91-94). 

8. Shylock on the elopement of Jessica (pp. 89, 97- 
101). 

9. Portia and Bassanio (pp. 101-108). 

10. The trial scene (pp. 130-139). 

11. The story of the rings (pp. 139-43, 150-55). 

12. The moonlight scene (pp. 144-48). 



CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE 

In the following parallel columns are given the most important 
dates in the history of English and American literature, from the 
time of Shakspere do^Ti to 1900. Special care has been taken to 
include the classics commonly read in high schools, so that the his- 
torical background of any given classic will be apparent from the 
table: 



AMBEICAN 



ENGLISH 

1594-5 Shakspere : Midsummer 

Night's Dream. 
1596 (or earlier) : Borneo and Juliet. 

1598 (or earlier) : The Merchant of 

Venice. 

1599 Henry V. 
1599-1600 As You Like It. 



1601-1700 



1607 Jamestown founded. 

1608 J. Smith 
1610 Strachey 



A True Relation. 
A True Reportory. 



1601 
1602 

1603 
1605 



1610 
1611 
1611 
1612 



1614 
1616 

179 



Julius CcBSar. 

Hamlet; Twelfth Night 

(acted). 
Queen Elizabeth died. 
Bacon : Advancement of 

Learning. 



Shakspere: Macheth (acted). 
The Tempest (acted). 
"King James" Bible printed. 
Bacon : Essays (first edition, 

1597). 
Raleigh : History of World. 
Shakspere died. 



180 



1620 



1624 



1630 



APPENDIX 



1635 
1636 
1638 



AMERICAN 

Plymouth Colony founded. 

J. Smith : The General His- 
tory of Virginda. 

Massachusetts Bay Colony 

founded. 
Bradford : History of Plimoth 

Plantation begun about this 

time. 
Winthrop : Journal begun, 

ended 1649. 



R. Mather : Journal (written). 
Harvard College established. 
New Haven founded. 



1640 The Bay Psalm Book. 



1644 Williams : The Bloudy Tenent. 



1650 A. Bradstreet : Poems. 



1662 



Wigglesworth 
Doom. 



The Day of 



1681 

1682 

1689 
1692 



C. Mather : Diary begun. 

Philadelphia founded. 

King William's War. 
Salem witchcraft trials. 



ENGLISH 






1620 Bacon : Novum Organum. 
1628 Shakspere: Plays (first folio 
edition). 



1627 Drayton: Ballad of Agincourt. 



1633 Milton : L'AUegro and 77 Pen- 

seroso. 

1634 Milton: Comus (acted), 



I 



1638 Trial of John Hampden. 
1638 Milton: Lycidas (published). 

1642 Theaters closed. 

1642 Browne : Religio Medici. 

1644 Milton : Areopagitica. 

1644 Battle of Marston Moor. 

1648 Herrick : Hesperides. 

1649 Charles I. executed. 

1653 Walton : The Gompleat Angler. 
1660 The monarchy restored. 

Pepys : Diary begun, ended 
1669. 



1666 London fire. 

1667 Milton : Paradise Lost. 

1671 Milton: Paradise Regained; 

Sampson Agonistes. 
1674 Milton died. 
1678 Bunyan : Pilgrim's Progress. 

1681 Dryden : At)salom and Achi- 

tophel. 

1682 Dryden : MacFlecknoe. 
1688 The English Revolution. 



1697 Dryden : Alexander's Feast. 



APPENDIX 



181 



1701-1800 



AMERICAN 



1701 Yale College established. 
1702-13 Queen Anne's War. 

1702 C. Mather : Magnolia Chris ti 

Americana. 
1704 Boston News Letter estab- 
lished. 



1722 Edwards : Diary begun. 



1732 Washington born. 

1733 Franklin : Poor Richard's Al 

manac (begun). 

1741 Edwards : Sinners in the 
Hands of an Angry God. 



1755 Braddock's defeat. 

1756 Woolman : Journal (begun) 
1758 Franklin : The Way to Wealth 

in Poor Richard's Almanac. 



ENGLISH 

1700 Dryden : FaUes ("Palamon 
and Arcite," etc.). 

1702 Queen Anne ascended throne. 



1704 


Swift : Tale of a Tub. 


1709 


Steele and'Addison : The Tat- 




ler begun. 


1711 


Steele and Addison : The Spec- 




tator begun. 


1712 


Pope : The Rape of the Lock. 


1714 


Queen Anne died. 


1715 


Pope : Translation of the Iliad 




(Books I-IV). 


1719 


Defoe : Robinson Crusoe. 


1722 


Defoe : Journal of the Plague 




Year. 


1726 


Swift : Chilliver's Travels. 




Thomson : Winter. 


1728 


Pope : Dunoiad. 


1732 


Pope : Essay on Man. 



1740 Richardson : Pam,ela. 



1742 Fielding : Joseph Andrews. 
1744 Death of Pope. 

1747 Gray : Ode on Eton College. 

1748 Richardson : Clarissa Harlowe. 

1749 Fielding : Tom Jones. 

1750 Johnson : The Rambler (be- 

gun). 

1751 Gray : Elegy Written in a 

Country Churchyard. 
1755 Johnson : English Dictionary. 



1759 Sterne : Tristram Shandy (be- 
gun). 
Johnson : Rasselas. 



182 



APPENDIX 



AMERICAN 



1765 Godfrey : Juvenile Poems 
(with The Prince of Parthia, 
the first American drama). 
The Stamp Act. 



1771 Franklin : AutoMography, first 

part, written. 
1773 P. Wheatley : Poems. 

1775 Trumbull : M'Fingal. 
Henry : Speech in the Vir- 
ginia Convention. 

1776 The Declaration of Independ- 

ence. 
Paine : Common Sense. 

1783 The Treaty of Paris. 

1785 Dwight : The Conquest of 

Canaan. 

1786 Freneau : Poems. 

1789 Franklin : AutoMography, sec- 
ond part, written. 

1796 Washington : Farewell Ad- 
dress. 
1798 Brown : Wieland. 

J. Hopkinson : Hail Columbia. 



ENGLISH 

1760 King George III on throne. 
1762 Macpherson : The Poems of 
Ossian. 

1764 Walpole: The Castle of 

Otranto. 
Goldsmith : The Traveler. 

1765 Percy : ReUques of Ancient 

Poetry. 



1766 Goldsmith: Vicar of Wakefield. 

1770 Goldsmith : Deserted Village. 

1771 Encyclopedia Britannica, first 

edition. 
1773 Goldsmith : She Stoops to 
Conquer (acted). 

1775 Burke : Speech on Conoilia- 

tion. 
Sheridan : The Rivals. 

1776 Gibbon : Decline and Fall of 

Roman Empire. 

1779 Johnson : Lives of the Poets. 
1783 Crabbe: The Village. 

1785 Cowper: The Task. 

1786 Burns : PoemrS. 

1789 Blake : Songs of Innocence. 

1791 Boswell : Life of Dr. Johnson. 



1798 Wordsworth and Coleridge : 
Lyrical Ballads ("The An- 
cient Mariner," etc.). 



1801-1900 



1803 The Louisiana Purchase. 



1809 Irving : Knickerhocker's His 
tory of New York. 



1812-14 War with England. 



1805 Scott : Lap of the Last Min- 
strel. 

1808 Scott : Marmion. 

1809 Byron : English Bards and 

Scotch Reviewers. 

1810 Scott : The Lady of the Lake. 

1811 J. Austen : Sense and Sensi- 

Mlity. 

1812 Byron : Childe Harold, I, II. 



APPENDIX 



183 



AMERICAN 

Key : The Star-Spangled Ban 

tier. 
Frenieau : Poems. 



L7 Brj'ant : Thanatopsis. 



Drake : The American Flag. 
Irving : The Sketch Book. 
The Missouri Compromise. 
Cooper : The Spy. 
Bryant : Poems. 

Irving : Bracehridge Hall. 

Payne : Home, Sweet Home. 

Cooper : The Pilot. 

Irving : Tales of a Traveler. 

Webster : The Bunker Hill 

Monument. 
Cooper : The Last of the 

Mohicans. 



Poe : Tam,erlane and Other 
Poems. 



Poe : Poems. 

Irving : The Alhamhra. 

S. F, Smith : America. 

Poe : MS. Found in a Bottle. 



Drake : The Culprit Fay, etc 
Holmes : Poems. 
Emerson : Nature. 
Emerson: The American 

Scholar. 
Hawthorne : Twice-Told Tales, 

first series. 
Whittier : Poems. 
Poe : Tales of the Grotesque 

and Aral)esque. 



ENGLISH 

1813 Southey : Life of Nelson. 

1814 Scott : Waverley. 
Wordsworth : The Excursion. 

1815 The Battle of Waterloo. 

1816 Byron : The Prisoner of Chil- 

lon; Childe Harold, III. 
Coleridge : Christahel. 

1817 Keats: Poems (first collec- 

tion). 

1818 Byron : Childe Harold, IV. 

1819 Scott : Ivanhoe. 

1820 Keats : Poems. 

Shelley : Prometheus Unbound. 

1821 Shelley : Adonais. 

De Quincey : Confessions of 
an Opium Eater. 

1823 Scott : Quentin Durward. 
Lamb : Essays of Elia. 

1824 Landor : Imaginary Conversa- 

tions. 

1825 Macaulay : Essay on Milton. 



1827 A. and C, Tennyson : Poems 

by Two Brothers. 

1828 Carlyle : Essay on Burns. 



1830 


Tennyson : Poems Chiefly 




Lyrical. 


1832 


Death of Scott; The Reform 




Bill. 


1833 


Carlyle : Sartor Besartus. 




Tennyson : Poems. 




Browning : Pauline. 


1835 


Browning : Paracelsus. 


1836 


Dickens : Pickvnck Papers. 


1837 


Victoria became Queen. 




De Quincey : Revolt of the 




Tartars. 




Carlyle : The French Revolu- 




tion. 



184 



APi'JiJJNDi: 



AMERICAN 

1839 Longfellow : Voices of the 

Night. 

1840 Dana : Two Years Before the 

Mast/ 

1841 Emerson : Essays, first series. 
Longfellow : Ballads and Other 

Poems. 

1842 Hawthorne : Twice-Told Tales, 

second series. 

1843 Poe : The ChoU-Bug. 
Prescott : Conquest of Mexico. 



1844 Emerson : Essays, second se- 

ries. 
LoAvell : Poems. 

1845 Poe : The Raven and Other 

Poems. 

1846 Hawthorne : Mosses from an 

Old Manse. 
1846-48 War with Mexico. 

1847 Emerson : Poems. 
Long.fellow : Evangeline. 
Parkman : The Oregon Trail. 

1848 Lowell : Vision of Sir Launfal. 

1849 Irving : Oliver Goldsmith. 



1850 Emerson: Representative Men 
Hawthorne : The Scarlet Let 

ter. 

1851 Hawthorne : The House of the 

Seven Oatles. 
Parkman : The Conspiracy of 
Pontiac. 

1852 Mrs. Stowe : Uncle Tom's 

Cabin. 



1854 Thoreau : Walden. 

1855 Longfellow : Hiawatha. 
Whitman : Leaves of Grass. 



ENGLISH 



1840 
184l' 

1842 

1843 

1844 

1845 
1846 

1847 

1848 
1849 

1850 
1851 

1852 
1853 

1855 



Macaulay : Essay on dive. 



Browming : 
Macaulay : 

Hastings 
Macaulay : 

Rome. 
Browning : 
Dickens : 
Macaulay 
Ruskin : 

Vol. I. 
E. B. Browning : Poems. 



Pippa Passes. 
Essay on Warren 

Lays of Ancient 

Dramatic Lyrics. 

A Christmas Carol. 

Essay on Addison. 

Modern Painters, 



Ro- 



Browning: Dramatic 

mances and Lyrics. 
Dickens : The Cricket on the 

Hearth. 

De Quincey : Joan of Arc. 

Tennyson : The Princess. 

Thackeray : Vanity Fair. 

C. Bronte : Jane Eyre. 

Macaulay : History of Eng- 
land, I, II. 

De Quincey : The English 
Mail Coach. 

M. Arnold : The Strayed 
Reveller, etc. 

Tennyson : In Memoriam. 

Dickens : David Copperfleld. 

Thackeray : Lectures on Eng- 
lish Humorists. 
G. Meredith : Poems. 

Thackeray : Henry Esmond. 

M. Arnold: Poems ("Sohrab 

and Rustum," etc.). 
Mrs. Gaskell : Cranford. 

R. Browning : Men and Women. 
Tennyson : Maud. 



APPENDIX 



185 



AMERICAN 

1856 Motley: Rise of the Dutch 
Republic. 
Curtis : Prue and I. 



1858 Longfellow : Courtship of 
Miles Standish. 
Holmes : Autocrat of the 
Breakfast Table. 



1861-65 The Civil War. 



1862-66 Lowell : Biglow Papers, II. 
1863 Longfellow : Tales of a Way- 
side Inn. 



1865 Whitman : Drum Taps. 

1866 Whittier : Snow-Bomid. 

1868 Hale : The Man Without a 
Country J etc. 



1870 Bret Harte : The Luck of 

Roaring Camp, etc. 

1871 : Ho wells : Their Wedding 

Journey. 



1873 Aldrich : Marjorie Daw, etc 

1876 Mark Twain : Tom Sawyer. 

1877 Lanier : Poems. 



ENGLISH 

1856 Macaulay : Essays on John- 

son and Goldsmith. 
Mrs. Browning : Aurora Leigh. 

1857 Hughes : Tom Brown's School 

Days. 



1859 Tennyson : Idylls of the King. 
Dickens : A Tale of Two Cities. 
G. Eliot : Adam Bede. 
Meredith : Ordeal of Richard 

Fever el. 

Darwin : The Origin of 
Species. 

1860 G. Eliot: The Mill on the 

Floss. 

1861 G. Eliot : Silas Marner. 
Reade : The Cloister and the 

Hearth. 

Palgrave : The Golden Treas- 
ury. 

1862 Meredith : Modern Love, etc. 
1868 G. Eliot: Romola. 

1864 Browning : Dramatis Personw. 
Swinburne : Atalanta in Caljf- 

don. 

1865 Ruskin : Sesame and Lilies. 

1866 Ruskin : A Crown of Wild 

Olive. 

1868 Browning : The Ring and the 
Book. 

1868-70 Morris : The Earthly ParOr- 
dise. 

1869 Tennyson : The Holy Grail, 

etc. 

1870 D. G. Rossetti : Poems. 

1871 Swinburne : Songs Before Sun- 
rise. 

1872 Tennyson : Gareth and Lynette, 

etc. 

1873 Arnold : Literature and Dogma. 
1876 Morris : Sigurd the Volsung. 



186 



APPENDIX 



1879 



AMERICAN 



Cable : Old Creole Days. 
Stockton : Rudder Grange. 



1881 Whittle!" : The King's Missive. 



1886 H. Jackson : Sonnets and 

Lyrics. 

1887 M. E. Wilkins : A Humhle 

Romance, etc. 

1888 Whitman : Novemher Boughs. 



1890 E. Dickinson : Poems, first 

series. 

1891 Whitman : Goodbye, My Fancy. 



1898 War with Spain. 



ENGLISH 



\ 



1878 Stevenson: An Inland Toy ag< 

1879 Stevenson : Travels with < 

Donhey. 

Meredith : The Egoist. 

1881 D. G. Rossetti : Ballads anc 

Sonnets. 

1882 Stevenson : New AraMa 

Nights. 

1883 Stevenson : Treasure Islan 

1886 Stevenson : Kidno^pped. 

1887 Stevenson : The Merry M < 

("Markheim," etc.), 

1888 Kipling: Plain Tales fro 

the Hills. 
Barrie : Auld Licht Idylls. 

1889 Brow^ning : Asolando. 



1891 Kipling : Life's Handicap. 

1892 Tennyson died. *' 

1893 Conington : Translation oj( 

Aeneid published. 
Barrie : Two of Them. 

1901 Queen Victoria died. 



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